


Crash and Burn, Angel.

by LTDaniells



Series: The Angel Series [1]
Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Beast - Freeform, Bit of dark shit, Children, Crash Angels, Death, F/M, Fanfiction, Love, Possession, Satan - Freeform, Smut, Sweden - Freeform, There might be some homewrecking, Touring, Tyla Toby, Yeah - definitely some smut, ghost - Freeform, love triangle maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-10-29 05:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 24,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10847607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LTDaniells/pseuds/LTDaniells
Summary: Tyla Toby may have got more than she bargained for, when her band supports Ghost on tour.





	1. Light Me Up

"One, two, three..."

  
On Roxy's cue, I shredded out the opening rift to our most popular song, Lana accompanying me with her bass guitar. Maya kicked in on the drums, and Roxy's voice soared through the empty arena. I lost myself in the music, letting my hands play to their own accord and letting adrenaline flood my blue veins. I loved my band.

  
Crash Angels had started with just me and my best friend, Roxy Lenner. Her voice and my guitar, that was just us fooling around with music during a long, hot and dreary summer. Soon after, Lana and Maya found us, and we slowly became more than just a load of English teenage girls playing around with instruments. We started to do a few intimate gigs, and the band was born. The name originated from a drunk man remarking that we looked like angels, but our attitudes were a car-crash. Hence, Crash Angels became our name. Fast forwarding to my eighteenth year on earth, to now, and the band got somewhere - voted upcoming rock band of the year, and being picked by metal royalty, Ghost, to be their supporting act on their ten-months-long tour.

  
That's how I ended up in the Birmingham NEC Arena, playing to no one other than a couple of sound techs. I was loving every minute of it.

  
"That's everything done, ladies," One of the sound techs shouted from the back, his voice creating an eerie echo throughout the venue. Roxy smiled and held up a thumbs-up, placing her microphone back into the stand. I took my guitar strap from around my neck and set my baby down on the stand gently, before diving off the stage and heading towards the exit. I was gasping for a cigarette.

  
"You should quit those things," Lana scolded me, as she followed me out of the exit and watched as I rummaged through the pockets of my old leather jacket for my packet of cigs. "Seriously, your voice sounds like a gravelling beast,"

  
"Well I'm okay with that," I muttered, searching for my lighter. "I'm not okay with not finding my lighter,"

  
"Good! Maybe you can still salvage an angel voice!" Lana giggled, watching me become more aggravated by the minute.  
"Where's the fucking lighter?" I screamed, stamping my foot in a tantrum.

  
Suddenly, a hand appeared in my line of vision, holding an electric-blue lighter. I followed the hand, which became an arm, attached to a man a little bit taller than me. I peered up at him, meeting a pair of piercing green eyes that seemed to protrude right into my soul. They held a beautiful fire, a fire that kept me staring.

  
"Do you need this?" The eyes spoke, smirking slightly. I was so entranced by this man, I lost the will to speak. I stared at him for a couple of seconds before turning my attention to the lighter that he held. I took it out of his hands, noting how cold they seemed, and mumbled a thank you as I lit up my cigarette. He smiled, returning the lighter to his pocket.

  
"Tyla Toby just used my lighter, I could put that in the papers," He joked, a light Swedish accent accompanying his slightly-husky voice. I smiled, in spite of myself, taking a drag from the cig. "See you around," He mumbled, patting my shoulder and walking into the arena with five more men following suit.

  
I took more puffs, contemplating on the beauty of a man I'd just laid eyes on.  
"Who was that?" I asked Lana, and a small smirk appeared on her tanned face.

  
"That was the lead singer of Ghost, you muppet," She laughed, flicking her blonde hair away from her face.

  
"That's him without the mask?!" I yelled in shock, as Lana ran and covered my mouth with her hands, giggling.

 

"Shhhhh! Yes, that's him. That's all of them, unmasked," She whispered, still holding her hands on my mouth to keep me quiet.

  
"I didn't imagine him to look that good," I said, barely audible with Lana's hands covering my mouth, but she caught exactly what I said.

  
"No, no. Papa has a wife," She sighed, moving her hands from my mouth to my shoulders. My face must have visibly dropped as I took my last drag of the cigarette, before stubbing it out on the ashtray next to us. "It's okay. He's good looking, yes. But have you ever seen him on stage?"

  
"No," I admitted, scratching the back of my neck. "I've only ever seen pictures and heard their music, I've never seen them properly perform,"

  
"Well, I'll warn you now, Tyla. He's sexual. He's as sexy as hell on that stage, every woman there swoons. If you're like this just from his face, be careful if you do watch them perform after us. We don't want to ruin this opportunity,"

  
"I know, I know," I sighed, fiddling with the silver ring on my thumb. "Wait, what do you mean 'I'm like this'?" I questioned her.

  
"You fucking stared at him. And you couldn't speak. Tyla Tobias, the girl who can gab for England, was speechless," Lana started giggling, her brown eyes seemingly vacant as I assumed she replayed what had just happened in her head. "Just keep your guard up, Tyla," She warned, before turning on her heel and walking back into the arena, reunited with Crash and Ghost.  
I stayed outside, watching the dark grey clouds of England pass by above me.

I would listen to Lana, and no doubt I'd get the same lecture from Roxy once she found out I fancied the lead singer of Ghost - but I wasn't promising that I'd stay completely clear of the cold-skinned and emerald-eyed Satan that had captured my full attention with less than four words.


	2. He Is

Our tour bus looked like a satanic hippy den, but it felt as cosy as a tour bus could get. It was later in the day, Lana and Maya had gone to shop for clothes for us all on stage - leaving Roxy, myself and an old and battered acoustic guitar to lounge in the tour bus, amongst the dozen tea candles that were spontaneously placed on every surface that was unused. We'd been here for about an hour, cups of tea and coffee in hand and nestled in blankets, the guitar lying on my lap.

"So, you met him without the mask today?" Roxy muttered, as I re-tuned the guitar.

"Lana's told you?"

"No. He came in just as we were leaving, and he was talking to one of the ghouls...what's his name? Oh..om.." Roxy trailed off, trying to remember the name of the ghoul.

"Omega?" I asked, feeling slightly confused as to why I remembered the name.

"Yeah, that one. Papa told him he'd met you outside. Said you were incredibly quiet. That got me thinking, Tyla. You're never quiet,"

"Yeah, well. He was a stranger, offering me a lighter. I wasn't exactly going to tell him my life story, was I?" I exclaimed, trying to defend myself. If Lana hadn't told Roxy anything yet, I had the chance to keep her in the dark from what I really thought about Papa. "Can we change the subject? Let's just play a song," I urged.

"Do 'He Is', considering Papa seems to be your shining in the light," Roxy joked, as I internally cringed. I couldn't hide anything from her.

To her avail, I started up the opening riff on my acoustic, smiling as the sound filled the tour bus.

"We're standing here by the abyss..." Roxy's voice, light and angelic - somewhat softer to that powerful tone that protruded any of our Crash Angels songs - accompanied the air of the guitar, echoing throughout. Throughout the whole song, my mind seemed to drift towards the man with the piercing green eyes. I never knew he had a wife. I couldn't help but feel slightly jealous, my emotions the same colour as his eyes, as my envy deepened the more I thought about it. It seemed so stupid to be envious of a woman that I'd never met, and over a man I'd barely met. Hell, I didn't even know his name.

As the song drew to a close, my mind was adamant that I wanted him. I wanted to know him. I wanted him to be in my life in some shape or form, and with ten months of seeing him lined up, I was sure that by the end of the tour, he would mean something.

Was I planning on being a homewrecker already?

My thoughts were interrupted by a subtle knock on the door, and Roxy shouting that the door was open as I set down the guitar back in it's case. The door opened hesitantly, and the creature that plagued my head walked in as I hurried to the opposite end of the tour bus to make more tea. I needed to calm the fuck down.

"I just wanted to say I heard that," He said, chuckling lightly as if he was somewhat nervous about being in the bus with us. "The song I mean. Nice job...Roxy, is it?"

"Thank you. Yeah, I'm Roxy. I've heard that you've already met Tyla," She smirked, gesturing to me behind him and giving away my hiding spot. I kept my head down, focusing on the tea bag as if it was the most interesting thing, but saw him turn to face me out of the corner of my eye.

"Well, she only borrowed a lighter," Papa chuckled, intent on watching as I finished making the tea. It was as if he knew what he was doing to me, and wanted to aggravate my feelings even more. Fuck you.

"I needed a smoke," I mumbled, whizzing past him to sit back on the bus sofa with my tea, not looking up at him. I could still feel his eyes burning into the top of my head, causing a strange heat to flood my cheeks and the inside of my thighs. After another minute, the heat built up so much that I had to clench my thighs together, causing me to feel annoyed at what he was doing - whether he knew or not.

"What?" I snapped, finally looking up at him and meeting his gaze. He had the weirdest, perplexing look on his face as he stared, his head cocked slightly to the left like a little puppy. It was somehow endearing.

"Nothing," He replied, still staring. He turned away, reaching for the bus door-handle, to leave. He stepped out cautiously, turning back towards me at the last second. "You look like my wife a little,"

With that, the door quietly shut and left me in a dazed state of shock, with Roxy staring at me from across the bus.


	3. Wet Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story so far. This is a gradual build up, so there will be more sexual chapters and smut within about three chapters time. I needed to build up a world first before I can set Papa loose to fuck with all my characters.  
> Have a great day, sinners.

Before Roxy had the chance to warn me to stay away from Papa, especially after the comment he'd just made, Lana and Maya bounded into the tour bus. Giggling, with arms full of shopping bags, they noticed the unsettling atmosphere in the bus straight away - demanding to know what was going on. I didn't want them to know. I shrugged and mumbled a phrase that no one really heard, and Roxy kept her mouth shut until she approached the shopping bags, with a lust for leather reflecting in her chocolate-coloured eyes. Me, I stayed back. Slumped on a sofa in the tiny kitchenette area of the bus, where no one could properly see me, I chewed the skin around my nails in thought.

I didn't want to seem like a secretive bitch, or come across as a whore. I didn't want them to know anything about my little admiration for the Master of Hell himself. I didn't even want to admit to myself about how far my admiration for him would take me. My band mates were the closest friends I had in the world, but something in the back of my mind whispered that they should be kept in the dark about everything, if anything, that occurred between Papa and myself.

The idea of something happening between us was enough for me to bite my lip and throw my head back slightly, imagining everything he could do to me. My thoughts wandered from the worry of being a slut, to him inside of me. Thrusting, biting: making me scream his name over and over as his dick hit that perfect spot that made my body flood with ecstasy. Fantasies of him filling me; touching me; running my tongue all over his hard, leaking cock and...

"Tyla? Are you with us right now?" Maya's cockney accent protruded right through my daydream and brought me crashing back down to earth. How angelic.  
She'd gotten changed, ready for the gig in a couple of hours time.

"What did you say?" I mumbled. My voice, sounding more hoarse than usual, strained as I tried to speak - overwhelmed by the burning pleasure begging to be released inside of me, as a result of the risque daydreams I'd just experienced.

"We bought you new clothes. I put them on your bunk..."

I stopped listening again. More images of him having his way with me, in the most filthiest way, rummaged through my brain. They didn't go away: every time I tried to snap out of it, come back to reality and focus on what my friends were saying, he was there. _We _were there.__

__"Go and get dressed," Roxy mumbled in my ear, poking my hip and pulling me up by the arm towards the bunks at the back of the bus. "Focus, Tyla," she hissed, before shutting the bunk room door and leaving me to find my outfit._ _

__I stared in awe when I first laid eyes on it. It was provocative, and completely the opposite to what they'd usually pick out for me to wear, but stunningly beautiful. The sexual aspect of the outfit felt like my band mates, perhaps, did want me to be seen by Papa. Maybe they were subtly encouraging him to take notice of me. More notice, more tours, perhaps?_ _

__I shook my head to stop myself thinking too much about it, and laid my eyes on the outfit again. It was nothing more than a body suit, in hindsight. Black leather hotpants, high waisted and measured perfectly to accommodate my tiny waistline and large hips. For underneath, a pair of fishnet tights with some black knee socks to go over the top - probably to save my feet from being hurt by my doc martens. The top half of the outfit was sleeveless, backless and nearly chestless, if it wasn't for the diamante straps attempting to hold my cleavage in. The whole outfit was dark, glamourous and satanically sexy. To finish, Maya had bought us all a pair of black angel wings, made from faux feathers._ _

__Everything fit perfectly as I looked in the mirror, having finally managed to tear my eyes away from the clothes and get dressed into them. I winged my black eyeliner, and pushed my hair up, knowing full well I couldn't run my fingers through the brunette, curly mess it was. It stuck out in all directions, like a mane, an interesting combination for such a pale girl to have hair stereotypically for a black girl. But I embraced it, purely because I'd rather smoke ten cigarettes in the morning than try to brush and straighten it._ _

__I walked into the bus area, doing a little twirl as I stepped out._ _

__"We did well," Maya whispered, gathering us all up and rounding us out of the bus towards the arena._ _

__I lit a cigarette as we walked, blowing smoke rings as I thought about tonight's show. I wasn't worried about playing, my mind was elsewhere. What did Lana mean by saying Papa was sexual on stage? What exactly could he do? Hump the air, finger the microphone stand? Just the thought of him in that costume, one piercing green eye watching as he slipped his fingers into the microphone holder on the stand was enough to make me gasp aloud and drop my cigarette._ _

__"What's up?" Roxy asked, whizzing her head around to watch me retrieve my cig._ _

__"Nothing, just nerves,"_ _

__'Aw. We all get it sometimes," She smiled, turning back towards the front, as I trailed behind._ _

__I smirked to myself. The nerves were for what Papa would do on stage - what it would do to me and the fire that caused me to feel so wet for the last few hours. I wanted it. I wanted to be fucked. Less than ten hours after meeting a man; not knowing his name or anything about him; barely speaking more than six sentences to him - I wanted him to take me. I needed to be satisfied, only in the hands of the Antichrist Pope with a wife who was my doppelganger.  
I wanted it tonight._ _


	4. Shooting Daggers

The arena was packed.

I peeked out at the side of stage, scanning all the faces in the crowd. I smiled, remembering the feeling of going to a gig - the nerves and excitement of waiting, the yearning to see that band you've queued up for to play live to you. This time, we were the ones being waited for. Only because the crowd would be one step closer to seeing Ghost, mind, but they were waiting for the support to start.

"Let's fuck things up," Roxy whispered, as Maya and Lana took to the stage and settled with their instruments. I was the last to make it out, following Roxy, keeping my head down but occasionally smiling at the people cheering and staring at me from the front row. I got to my guitar, threw the strap over my shoulder and nodded to the women that accompanied the stage with me. Our stage...for the next forty-five minutes, at least.

And we were off, as Maya's drums started up our opening song. The song seemed to fly by in a blur of hot, flashing lights; Lana occasionally spluttering all over her bass guitar from the smoke machine and the thousands of bodies packed into the arena singing the words to our music and jumping around. It felt like a dream. One fucking amazing dream.

"You fucking ready, Birmingham?" Roxy shouted to the crowd when the song ended, the crowd screaming back. "Who's here for Ghost?"  
The crowd roared, like a pack of lions, and clapped their hands like sea-lions. "Anyone here for us?"

I held my breath in anticipation, knowing full well that they weren't here for us, but the arena seemed to vibrate as the audience screamed and shouted. I smiled, let out my breath and looked up into the seemingly-black abyss before me, for the first time that night. My eyes managed to connect with a group of girls on the front row, yelling my name over and over again.

"Hit it, Tyla Toby!" Roxy's voice echoed throughout the arena, and my guitar opened up the next song with a nasty riff. After a while, I started to go into a dreamy state. My adrenaline was pumping, I felt like I was walking on air. The feeling was indescribable, unless you'd truly experienced it. Crash Angels had been going for five years, but we'd never experienced performing like we did that night.

Around halfway through our penultimate song on our setlist, I suddenly felt my cheeks burning. My shoulder stang, as if someone was shooting lasers into it. I tried to ignore it and allow the adrenaline to take my mind away from it, but to no avail. Finally, in confusion, my gaze went from my guitar to the left of me - side stage, where we'd all stood before we were on stage - and one green eye pierced my soul. I quickly looked back down at my guitar, frightened that I would miss a chord or fuck the song up, but couldn't seem to forget that he was watching me. I raised my head slightly and glanced sideways. 

There he stood. In full costume, antipope robe and all, with one white eye and one emerald one, both on me. I could have sworn that he'd smirked slightly but, under that mask, it was undetectable.

Then came the wetness again. I was wearing a pair of fucking tiny shorts, on stage, in front of thousands of people.


	5. Holy Hell

The feeling of relief swept over me like an ice-cold bath on a sunburnt body, as Roxy said goodnight to the crowd and I darted off stage. He'd gone from the side stage area at the beginning of our last song, but the wetness never left. I ran towards my dressing room, locking it behind me (ignoring Lana's shouts and banging on the door) and dived towards the little towel on the dressing table. I pulled the shorts down, and held the towel up to my pussy, trying to soak up whatever he'd managed to create. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as I started to feel dryer, and my pulse rate went back to normal.

Suddenly, something chuckled in the corner of the room. I yelped, terrified. The room was dark, with only the lights on the dressing-table mirror to illuminate the middle of the room. A hand snaked around my waist and down towards the towel, yanking it out of my hand. Trying to pull away and see who the intruder was, it held me in it's stern grip, trailing circles on my inner thigh.

I closed my eyes. I had no idea who was in the room, but their touch felt so good that I didn't want them to stop. I felt the frustration I'd had all day melt away as they continued to work their fingers on my skin. I was barely aware of myself until I felt the hand sneak closer upwards, waiting in trepidation as it brushed against my cunt, sopping wet once again. The chuckle rang out again, so close to my neck that I could feel the breath of the intruder on my skin. Then their lips. 

I moaned in pleasure as they started to suckle and nibble on the tender parts of my neck, trying to grab the neck of my intruder to steady myself, but they wouldn't let me. Instead, the hand started to rub through my underwear, making the whole room seem to disappear. Without warning, their hand pushed aside the sodden fabric of my underwear and a finger carefully pushed in, testing the waters. I bit my lip so hard, I could taste blood. The intruder started to move their hand away from me, and I whined in longing.

"Please carry on," I breathed, shocking myself. I had no idea who was in the room with me, and I couldn't see them at all, but I was so wound up that I was willing to let them pleasure me.

For the third time, the intruder chuckled again, seemingly amused by the state I was in, and roughly pushed two fingers inside of me. They hooked them inside, their thumb massaging my clit as my body vibrated from ecstasy. The feeling grew like a tonne of bricks, and I moaned and whined and made noises I'd be ashamed to make with any other. This person was different. They seemed to know exactly how to control my body. 

I felt something dig in the back of the top of my thigh, and swiftly moved my arm behind me to feel what it was. The intruder gasped as I grabbed a hold of it, and started to pound my pussy with their fingers. The intruder was a man, and his hard dick was in my hand.

I rubbed it through the unknown material that covered it, as he carried on ruining me with his hands.

"I'm close," I whispered, nearly a second too late as the room became blindingly white. I screamed, my body filling with adrenaline once again that night as the glorious sensation rippled inside of me, sending me into a daze. I let go of him, and he removed his hand from inside of me. His hand let my waist go, but I didn't turn around. I couldn't. I could barely stand.

I flopped down on the sofa behind me, my legs weak from the orgasm, as the figure started to head for the door. I watched as he turned the door handle and opened it, a stream of light from the hallway illuminating him.

My mouth dropped open in shock as the figure put his gloves back on, and winked at me, using his only green eye.


	6. Lascivious

"Tyla?" Roxy shouted, knocking on the door and opening it hesitantly, minutes after he'd left. I was still coming down from what had just happened, barely aware of where I was or who I was. Roxy walked in slowly, staring at me with narrowed eyes.  
"Why are your shorts around your ankles?"

I gasped and looked down, forgetting that I'd pulled them down to stop the wetness when I got into the room. Grabbing them and sliding them back up my thighs, I smiled awkwardly.

"I thought I'd come on my period, but it was a false alarm..." I lied, jumping up from the sofa and moving the towel from the floor and into the bin. I didn't want to see it again. I didn't even want to think about what just happened. Did Papa, the man who supposedly had a wife, just pleasure me for no reason? Did he know what he was doing when he looked at me the way he did? He made it obvious that he was enjoying what he was doing by all the chuckling he did. But I didn't understand it. He had a wife, didn't he?

"Ghost are on now. I thought I'd come and tell you," and with that, Roxy left me alone in my dressing room. I composed myself, fixed myself a small glass of whiskey and made my way to side-stage. I was intrigued about how he moved on stage - what Lana had warned me about. As I stood with the girls, Papa started talking to the audience. Introducing his next song, his words making me melt and feel completely lifeless.

"This next song...it's about fucking. In a way, we are all fucking each other tonight..." 

_I fucking wish._

The song began, and at first I didn't see what Lana had warned me about. Sure, he was prancing about on the stage, captivating the hearts of the thousands we'd wooed earlier in the night - but he wasn't sexual. 

"I am the one who comes into the daughters of man..." He sang, moving his hands in front of him and thrusting his hips forwards, as if to mimic fucking someone from behind. I took a gulp of my whiskey, and sighed. _That's what she'd warned me about_.  
I carried on watching him, though I desperately wanted to tear my eyes away. Watching him parade around like that made me feel sick and weak. Was I just something to play with whilst his wife was not with him?

He glanced at me as he sang the word 'lascivious', and thrusted gently in the air towards my direction. I looked down, and turned away, stalking back to my dressing room. Now the frustration had ebbed away, and he'd satisfied me (for now), I felt completely used. I didn't like this situation at all, but I was the one who'd wanted this, with a mind full of lust.

This couldn't happen again.


	7. Ignorance isn't Bliss

The girls had to drag me out of my dressing room at the end of the show, because I refused to move. I just wanted to sit there or go and sleep in the tour bus. My mood had been ruined by my mind's revelation that I was playing the part of a used homewrecker, and I chased the mood with glasses of whiskey. By the time Ghost had finished on stage, I wasn't exactly sober.

"Come on, you drunk moody bitch," Roxy yelled, snaking her skinny fingers around my wrist and trying to pull me off the sofa. I had all of my band mates, on each side of me, trying to haul me from the sofa to go to the club adjacent to the venue to celebrate our first night of tour. I wasn't in the party mood.

Thinking about it, I don't know how I didn't snap and swear at them. I suppose the weight of the situation had made me feel withdrawn. It wasn't as if him and I had just kissed drunkenly or something minor - he'd had his fingers inside of me. He'd made me orgasm, the most intimate thing you could do. Everyone had told me he had a wife - on tour or not, I didn't want to be the slut that ruined their marriage. If that happened, and became a scandal, then Crash Angels would be history. It wasn't just for myself that I had to be wary, I had to be the keeper for my band mates too.

Eventually, they pulled me up from the sofa and guided me out of the arena.

"What took so long?" Omega asked as we all made it outside, the ghouls and _him_ waiting.

"She's in a bad mood, and full of whiskey," Lana sighed, trying to hold me upright - though I was completely fine. I wasn't sober, but I wasn't quite drunk yet.

"Why is that?" The bastard asked, and I narrowed my eyes at him. He showed no emotion, even without the mask covering his face - no trace to give away our encounter a mere couple of hours ago.

"I'm just not in the mood. Lana, fucking let go of me, I'm not drunk!" I yelled, pulling my arm away from her. Everyone stared at me in mild shock as I walked past them all to the club, a few metres away from where we were stood. I heard them mumbling behind me as we walked into the club.

"Is she always like this?"  
"Not usually, I don't know what's up with her,"  
"She seemed angry when she couldn't find her lighter, too,"  
"She has mild moments, like a five year old having a tantrum, but she's never moody like this,"  
"Hopefully, she'll lighten up,"

I rolled my eyes when they shushed as they came closer to me.

The club was packed, and fairly rowdy. It was quite dark inside, though there were lit up booths towards the back where the bar was. Roxy picked us out an empty booth on the far side of the room, and I settled on a bar stool at the corner of the bar, next to the booth. I didn't fancy getting cosy with them all.

My mood was so sour. I just felt so wracked with remorse for everything. I know how I'd feel if he was my husband, and he'd fucked around with a woman from a band he's touring with: I'd be heartbroken.  
Yet, I was the one feeling heartbroken right now. It had felt good. He felt good with what he did, better than I'd ever had. I couldn't help but imagine would else he could do to me; how he would feel if he was inside of me. I tried my best to stop thinking about him like that, but what he'd done to me had only fuelled my desire more. Although it was breaking me, and I felt terrible for what I was letting happen, I wanted more. Scrap that, my body needed more. I don't think it would settle for anything less than him. It craved him, much to my discomfort.

The night passed quicker than I thought, although I didn't really speak to anyone. Not that they paid any attention to me, the majority of them were pretty drunk by now. He was the worst. He was completely smashed, dancing around and exploding a champagne bottle as if he was a millionaire. I sighed and nursed my glass of coke - refusing to drink any more alcohol to stop fuelling Lana and Roxy's opinion that I was drunk. I started to crave nicotine, realising I hadn't had a cigarette since I'd been on stage, and made my way to the smoking area at the back of the club. From the corner of my eye, I swore I saw him get up to follow me, but I couldn't be sure.

My eyes deemed me to be true, as the smoking area door opened and he sat next to me on the bench, lighting his own cigarette.  
"I'm guessing you don't need this?" He slurred, poking my thigh with his lighter.

"Obviously not," I mumbled, puffing on my cig.

"What's wrong?" He asked me, his slur suddenly abandoning him as his piercing eyes stared straight at me, full of worry. I was so close to leaning in and kissing him, I could feel his breath on my face.

"It's about earlier," I sighed, dropping my chin in the palm of my hand and resting my elbow on my knee. I continued to look at him as his face became more flustered with worry.

"I'm so sorry. I just..." He began, trailing off as a tear slid down my cheek. I couldn't stand to be here, not with him. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and as much as my mind screamed no, I leaned into him. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, the cologne on his shirt and leather jacket.

"I just have this yearning for you..." He whispered, kissing the top of my head.

"But you have a wife," I sighed, tapping his knee with my fingers.

"I do. It's complicated..."

"Then tell me. Please. I'll be honest with you," I mumbled, turning to face him. "I want you. I really do. I barely know you, but I have the yearning too. But I can't hurt anyone," I admitted, staring up at his eyes. Cool green, laced with unknown emotion and anticipation.

He let out a sigh, and started to speak: "We have an open relationship...kind-of. We can't fuck everyone we see, but we did agree that if we have a desire for someone, and it burns us, we can do it,"

I processed this information. I didn't know how to respond, and he must have noticed this.

"She's been screwing Alpha for four years, Tyla,"

My eyes opened in shock, and I looked back towards the door to the club where, behind it, would be the ghoul Alpha, sat in the booth with everyone else. I felt cool hands graze my jawline, and a hand gently pulled my chin so I couldn't face the door anymore. I was back in his sights, in those beautiful eyes that searched my soul and made me feel alive every time they connected with my own light-blue set.

"Do you feel this too?" He whispered. It should have sounded so corny, so cliche, but he asked me as if it was the most important question in the world. The way he was looking at me like that, I couldn't take it anymore. If his wife was fucking Alpha on the side, and he wanted me - what's to stop us?

I leaned in and my lips met his carefully, somewhat hesitantly. He reacted quickly, cupping the side of my cheek with his hand and pulling me closer, his lips searching mine. I'd never been kissed so beautifully before, especially by the man who was behind the mask of Satan. His tongue pushed apart my lips, begging for entrance and I hastily accepted, moaning into his mouth. 

He pulled away slightly, so our noses were still touching.

"I've never known a woman sound so perfect when she moans," he whispered, smiling, before leaning in again. I couldn't get enough of his soft lips, the beautiful way he made me feel. The way I wanted it to feel, without all the guilt and worry.

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice hissed, and I sprang away from him. We both stared at the figures in the smoking area like we were children caught with our hands in the cookie jar.

"Well?" Roxy asked, hands on her hips, with the rest of my band staring open-mouthed.


	8. Secrecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone reading and enjoying this fiction. To say thank you, I'm going to upload two chapters today. This is just a small filler - bigger chapter to follow within the next couple of hours.  
> Stay evil, sinners.

Time seemed to stand still as my mind tried to figure out a way out of this situation. None of them could know about the wife situation, or him and I - least of all, Roxy. Roxy wouldn't trust it at all: I could picture her face now as she yelled about how it was dangerous and something wasn't right about the whole set-up. She couldn't know.  
But how was I going to tell him that I wanted to keep this a secret?

"It's nothing, ladies," He said, breaking the disagreeable silence that had settled in the smoking area.

"You have a wife!" Lana spat at him, and I held my arm in front of him, as if to somehow protect him from my band mates' wrath.

"I do. It's nothing. It won't happen again," He exclaimed, getting up from next to me and walking away, back into the club. I felt sick to my stomach, hoping he didn't really mean that. 

"We'll say no more about this. But don't fuck this up for us, Tyla," Roxy declared, walking back into the club with Lana and Maya, hot at her heels. I sighed and followed them in. 

I really hoped he wasn't serious about nothing happening between us again. After that kiss and the pleasure he'd given me tonight, I couldn't leave it alone.  
But if we were going to keep this up, we were going to have to sneak around like cautious teenagers.

I sat back in my stool and ordered another glass of coke, the bartender passing me over a piece of paper with my order. I looked at him quizzically and he shrugged, moving to serve other people at the bar. A smile plastered my face as I opened the note and read it.

_Come back to Ghost's tour bus. We can talk. Then you can sneak back into your bus before they get in - Alpha will text me when they're leaving._

And with that, I said good night to everyone and left the club, my heart thudding inside my chest as I walked towards Ghost's tour bus, parked right next to ours.  
I knocked quietly and opened the door, teetering inside. I felt myself be thrown up against the inside of the bus, someone's familiar mouth on mine and their hands under my t shirt.

Sneaking around never tasted so sweet.


	9. Talking

"Is this what you call talking?" I whispered as he gently pulled his lips from mine. His eyes were burning mine, staring intently.

"That's a greeting," He said, smirking, before releasing me from the wall and guiding me towards a sofa, sitting down next to me. Their tour bus was similar to ours in layout, obviously bigger, but cosily familiar - minus the hippy candles. They rivalled us on satanic posters, though. "I got the feeling that you don't want Roxy to know about this?" 

"How did you guess?" I queried, genuinely curious as to how he knew. He just simply chuckled, that famous chuckle I'd heard so many times that night.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket - a text from Roxy.

_You're not with him, are you?_

I sighed, and messaged her back, swearing I was in our tour bus and that I was trying to sleep. I felt terrible for lying, but he was too much to pass up.

"She's wondering where you are. I don't blame her. I know you don't want to tell her, and I understand," He said, placing a hand on the inside of my thigh. 

"How do you know all of this?"

"The same way I knew how wet you got on stage tonight,"

"You knew about that?" I gasped, punching him lightly in the shoulder. He'd known what he was doing - yet continued to do it. What a little sneak!

"Why do you think I was in your dressing room, Tyla?" He smiled, creeping his fingers further up my thigh, centimetres away from my sex.

"Speaking of, I believe I owe you something," I smirked, forming an idea. He'd given me pleasure, I'd given him nothing but grief. I wanted him to feel good. I owed it to him. 

He gasped as I placed my hand on his crotch, rubbing gently. He was becoming harder and harder in a matter of seconds, and I started to undo his jeans. His member sprung free, and I smiled. It was gloriously hard, and large. I got off from the sofa, knelt down on my knees in front of him and leaned upwards. I placed my lips on the tip, tasting him slowly as I heard him sigh. His hands found the sweet spot at the back of my neck and massaged it as I started to suck on him. I pushed him down my throat, all of him, and heard him grunt when I started to suck again.

"I knew you didn't have a gag reflex..." He whispered, his voice hoarse and raspy. The sound of his voice turned me on even more, and I started to suck harder until he started to claw at my neck, close to his end. Suddenly, he came, whispering my name as his seed slid down my throat. I swallowed it and freed my mouth from him, smiling. He sat there, watching me intently before lunging at me, plunging my back on the floor and him on top. His hands slid all over me, before reaching my breasts and then my nipples. With every touch and pinch, my body radiated pleasure. 

"Please have me," I begged, and he grunted again as he started to tear my leather jeans off me. 

Then his phone rang and interrupted us as he sprang off me, checking it.

"Alpha. They're about to leave," He whispered, kissing my head quickly and pulling my jeans back up. He pushed me out of the tour bus, smacking my ass as he did. I ran into my tour bus and had just finished putting my PJs on when they walked in.

"Thought you were in bed?" Lana asked me, as they all took their coats off and cornered me.

"I can't sleep," I mumbled.

"Probably the guilt," Roxy muttered. I slammed my hand onto the tour bus wall, surprising everyone.

"Stop it. Nothing is going on, okay?" I whispered. I was tired of Roxy's isolating ways of making me feel bad.

She turned around to look at me, and sighed lightly. She said nothing, but put her arms around me and gave me a big hug. That was our signal for an apology. 

When I settled into my bunk that night, I thought about what a day it had been. I'd met him; he'd turned me on and pleasured me; we'd kissed and I'd done the same for him. But at what cost? I was lying to my band mates. They were the closest people I had, and I was deceiving them for my own selfish reasons. What about his wife? What if I ended up being a homewrecker after all?

I didn't care, as I drifted to sleep with the thought of his piercing eyes, full of lust, watching me as I had my mouth around his shaft.


	10. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter in one day. I'm going mad.

I never saw him the next day. At soundcheck, I saw the ghouls arrive, but he was missing. He must have done his soundcheck, because I could hear his beautiful voice soar out of the arena from inside our tour bus. My band mates had gone out for the day after the check, leaving me with my own thoughts. They'd be on speaking terms with me, but left me alone more often. I think they knew in their hearts what was going on, and just wanted to ignore it all. It was for the best.

I spent a few hours lying around in just my underwear and a large t-shirt, my pale legs strung up on the top of the sofa, with a good book. A little knock on the door came at around two p.m. and, before I managed to cover myself up, the door opened. There stood Alpha, not making any movement to come into the bus.

"We're staying in a hotel tonight, I don't know if the ladies have told you. The arena for tonight has been flooded and the electricity is down, so we're staying here and travelling to the next show tomorrow. You can check in now, if you like," He said, before closing the door slightly. I nodded in apprehension, going back to my book. "I can tell why he picked you," He remarked, before closing the door fully and leaving me.

I sat there in silence, interest no longer in the book but on Alpha's comment. He was the one who just walked in without warning, I tried to cover myself up a little. I hoped that would be the last comment - it'd be weird for him to speak of me like that when he's screwing my lover's wife. What a bizarre situation I was in.

I got up, and decided to get dressed to go and check into the hotel. I packed a few toiletries and my makeup, along with my guitar. At the last minute, I packed a pair of suspenders and stockings. I quickly got dressed in a little black t-shirt dress and a pair of knee high socks, throwing on my leather jacket and boots before I left. Alpha did tell me the hotel name, and it only took five minutes of walking before I was in front of it. 

I slowly trudged up to the reception desk, where the receptionist seemed more than happy to help me.

"Tyla Toby, isn't it? Room 611," She smiled, handing me my key card.

"Is there anyone else staying in my room?" I asked, wondering if any of the band mates had to share a room with me. If not, this could be a perfect night. He could stay.

"Yes, they've already checked in. They should be still up there. Big fan by the way," 

"Thank you," I smiled, waving to her as I pressed the button for the lift. "If any of my band mates come here, can you please not tell them what room I'm in?" I shouted from the lift.

"No problem. Have a good day," 

I smiled as the elevator doors shut, eagerly anticipating the night. I waited for the lift to reach my floor, and stepped out quickly as soon as it reached there. I found my room, and couldn't help but wonder if his was near. I anxiously wondered who was in my room. The key card entered the lock smoothly, and I entered my room, plonking my bags on the bed. I lay there on the double bed, the room quiet. No one was here.

I sat upright and sighed. I looked around the room and noticed a little black rose in the corner of the room. I loved black roses. I wasn't one for flowers at all, but black roses were the most unique flower to me. As I got closer to look at it, I noticed a little note beside the vase it was in, and my heart jumped when I recognised the handwriting.

_Our room_

He was my room mate.

I felt sorry for whoever was in the room next door, and hoped they'd have headphones. I had a feeling there wouldn't be much sleeping going on in this bed.


	11. Pitifully Pleasured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've changed the rating on this because I wasn't going to write about anything dark, but this chapter is crucial for how the plot is going to work out.  
> This chapter does contain elements of rape and sexual assault, just for a warning. This will be the only chapter like this, I felt incredibly uncomfortable writing it - but it's needed to make the whole plotline work.

He entered the room at around six p.m, rushing in and jumping on top of me as I lay in the middle of the bed. No greeting, no warning - just his lips roughly pressed onto mine and his tongue searching my mouth. I moaned lightly, taken aback by how quickly he'd gotten my underwear soaking again, and he grinned against my mouth.

"I want you, now," He grumbled, his eyes staring down at me, filled with lust and desire. There was something different about them. I could see something else in them, something evil and menacing, and a distant alarm bell rang in the back of my mind. Something in my subconscious was warning me that this was a bad idea, and that I shouldn't give myself up so quickly for him. I pushed the voice aside, driven wild by the feeling of his hands roaming my skin and his teeth on the bottom of my dress, slowly pulling it up towards my neck with his mouth. Forcefully, he pulled the dress over my head and ripped my underwear down. I was fully exposed to him.

His urgency was starting to frighten me. He'd not exactly been tender or slow with me from the beginning, but his strong and quick stripping of me told myself that something was wrong.

My doubts faded away as his hand found it's way to my pussy, rubbing my clit. A few seconds later, three fingers were struck in me without warning, and I yelped. He'd never done that before. Last time, he'd taken more time with me - there was more patience. Right now, he just seemed eager to have me. I took it as a compliment, ignoring the alarm bells that stunned my thoughts again.

Within a minute, his fingers were out and fiddling with the button on his jeans. I leaned upwards and tried to help him, but he threw my arms back down onto the bed, pinning them down. His eyes were wild, and changing colour before my eyes - his sparkling emeralds were fading, becoming whiter and whiter.

Something was really wrong.

Then he was inside of me. Again, without warning. I screamed in agony, not knowing what to do, before his hand clamped down on my mouth. Muffling my screams, he started to fuck me fast and hard. 

I couldn't take any of it. It wasn't what I imagined it to be at all: he was a different person. I imagined it to be rough and mad, yes, but not this bad. He'd turned me on, but his rough urgency had caused me to become drier in fright. He started to fuck harder, and a tear slipped from my eye. I didn't want him like this. I didn't want whoever this was.

I brought my feet back and booted his chest away from me. He pulled out, nearly as quick as he'd put it in, and fell backwards onto the floor in a daze. He stood up and snarled at me, his eyes glowing bright white. Goosebumps arose on my skin, and my hands shook in fear. The venom in his face seeped into the atmosphere of the room, making me want to throw up. I felt a sharp burning down below, not the pleasant kind, and looked down to see blood slowly creeping out of me. 

"Maledictus vir scortum," He seethed at me, the anger radiating out of his once-beautiful face. This wasn't him.

What the fuck had happened to the man I wanted?

He dressed himself, and left the room, slamming it shut behind him. I crept out of bed, feeling the blood trickle down my legs, and listened at the door for his footsteps. They became more gradual and distant, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard the lift doors close down the hallway. I rested my back against the wooden door and slid down it, tears streaming down my face. 

I was in complete agony. Further inspection proved that he'd cut me on the lips of my vagina - several bizarre little cuts that oozed blood constantly.

I stayed huddled up by the door, too frightened to get back into bed. I grabbed the duvet and set it around me, shivering. Completely paralysed, I sat and thought. Everyone had gone out tonight to parties, and I was going to have to sleep in the same room as that satanic creature. I had no one. I couldn't tell anyone what was going on - no one knew about the fling.

I pondered about the illusion of Papa Emeritus. Maybe he wasn't a stage presence or an anonymous character - the Satanic structure within the band might be real. 

My phone rang on the opposite side of the room, and I jumped up in fear - fresh tears swamping my eyes. I trudged carefully up to it, not recognising the number. Answering the phone hesitantly, I took a deep breath to prepare me for who was calling.

"Hello?" I whispered, my voice cracking in fear.

'It's Omega. Are you safe? Did the beast hurt you?" He spoke, his tone pleading and hasty. 

"How did you..?" I asked. The weight of what had happened suddenly plunged me down, and my voice came out in sobs.

I hung up and collapsed on the floor. I had no idea what was going on, or why Omega knew that something had happened, but the pain and fear started to eat me up and I retreated into myself. 

The door swung open, and I cowered in the corner of the room, too anxious to get up or see who it was. I prayed it wasn't that thing what possessed him.

Gentle arms stroked my hair as I sobbed, but I kept my eyes squeezed shut. I felt a towel cover my naked body up, and I peeked open one eye.

"I should have warned you about this," Omega sighed, drying my eyes. He lifted me up off the floor and lay me on the bed. I started to scream again and panic - paranoid that he was going to hurt me too - but he just shushed me and rubbed my shoulder. I heard him go into the bathroom and start running the water for the bath.

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" I whimpered, terrified of any of the members of Ghost. I didn't know if they were all suffering from whatever my lover had, but I felt like my bones had been rattled inside my body and my mind was on defence mode.

"Did he hurt you that bad?" Omega whispered, kneeling beside the bed. A little tear escaped his eyes, and he picked me up again. Cautiously carrying me to the bathroom, he placed me in the hot bath, removing the towel from my body.

Thinking about it now, I was surprised how I stayed so calm in letting a man I didn't know see me naked. I suppose it was his gentle and caring tendency, he was wracked with guilt at that point. He never looked at my body once. He sat on the outside of the bath, staring at the tiled wall.

"He forced himself inside me. I didn't say no. I want him - but not...that," I muttered.

"White eyes?"

"Yes,"

Omega's face turned pale, and he frowned as he placed a hand to his forehead.

"Is he possessed?" I asked, and he looked at me for the first time. He stared straight into my eyes, conflict visible in his face as he decided what to say.

"In a short answer, yes,"


	12. Sweetness of Venom

Omega left soon after. I slowly got out of the bath an hour or so later, the water bringing goosebumps to my skin and feeling barely lukewarm to my freezing body. He hadn't arrived back yet, although I didn't fear him much now. After Omega's revelation, I wanted to see my lover as soon as possible. I needed to know what _thing_ possessed that beautiful man, and how to stop it hurting me.

Slipping a bathroom robe over myself, I left the bathroom and searched for my pyjamas - but last minute found a tshirt of his, and slipped that over my head. It was long enough to be a dress, and it smelt like him. Comforted, I cracked open a bottle of wine from the mini fridge and sat on the bed, anticipation eating me. As I sat there, the wine soothing my throat, I thought about if I'd get him tonight or if the monster would come back. How often did he get like that? Was there a way of knowing?

Interrupting my thoughts, I heard a key card slip into the door. I gulped down the last of my wine, watching the door intently as it opened somewhat hesitantly. His face peeked inside, the emerald eyes had returned but they were red-raw and bloodshot. He looked at me for a few seconds, as if waiting for something, before coming fully into the room and shutting the door behind him. He stayed stood in front of the door, not daring to come any further into the room.

He must remember what the monster had done.

"I know. Omega told me," I said, addressing him by his first name.

"Did he tell you everything?" He whimpered, still standing by the door.

He looked so lost and helpless. I got up, poured another glass of wine and another for myself. I handed one to him, kissing his cheek softly. He took the glass, and wrapped one arm around my waist to hold me closer.

"I'm so sorry. Did he cut you?"

"He did. Please tell me everything," I pleaded, whispering into his hair. He pulled away from me and took my hand in his, guiding us both to the bed. He ushered me to sit down, our thighs touching each other as he sipped on his glass of wine.

"Truthfully, no-one knows what it is," He began, gathering his thoughts. "After Year Zero was recorded, it just happened. It's like having a really bad stomach ache, but the ache fills you with anger and fury. I know what's happening, but I have no control. Then once the possession ends, I regain control,"

I took all the information in with a gulp of wine.

"So how do you know when it's going to happen?" I mumbled, taking his free hand in mine.

"I don't. If you want us to stop this, we can. I don't expect you to deal with the abuse it can give you," He sighed, cupping my cheek gently. His hand trembled slightly.

I didn't have to think about a decision. I wanted him. If having him meant having hell alongside it, then that's what I'd get. 

I took his wine glass out of his hand, and placed mine and his on the table beside the bed. I lunged at him without warning, my bitten lips crashing onto his as he fell backwards onto the bed, myself on top. He pulled away seconds after we'd collided, his eyes searching mine.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I've never been more sure," 

His lips finally accepted mine, and his loving way of touching came back. His hands roamed my skin, softly gripping at the hem of the shirt that kept me decent. We broke the kiss, only for a few sacred seconds for both our tshirts to leave our excited bodies, and our lips rejoined. His hand sneakily slipped into my underwear as I unbuttoned his jeans, trying to pull them down. 

"Fucking take them off, will you?" I mumbled, breaking the kiss again. He chucked and leaned backwards. He stood upright at the foot of the bed, taking his jeans off.  
"Take those off too," I motioned to his boxers. Smirking, he pulled them down and discarded them on the floor. He stood before me as I lay on the bed, naked in all his glory, and I felt my heart rate increase through the roof. I'd never wanted anyone more in my life.

He knelt on the bed, spreading my legs apart and removing my underwear.

"He did cut you badly," He sighed, placing sweet little kisses on the cuts. I wriggled at the feeling of him kissing me, so close to my clit. His mouth trailed away from the cuts, up to my clit, his tongue circling around it as moans left my mouth involuntarily. He was fucking amazing. His mouth left me, and his fingers replaced it. He hooked them straight in, grinning at me as his free hand massaged my breast - occasionally pinching my nipple.

"So wet," He laughed, his mouth dropping onto my nipple and sucking lightly. I groaned in pleasure as my body twitched to the feeling of him.

"Please have me," I begged into his ear in between moans, and his face snapped upwards. His eyes bored into mine, laced with lust, as he lined himself up in my entrance and removed his fingers. Without looking away from my eyes, he slowly entered me. It was completely different than that monster. His face watched intently as my back arched slightly at the feeling of his huge cock pushing against my limit. He fucked me slowly, watching my reactions. 

"I'm going to fuck you now. The way I want to fuck you," He spoke, his voice loud and clear in the hotel room.

I nodded, and he flipped me over suddenly. He thrust himself in me from behind, and grabbed a handful of my hair. My head was pulled back as he fucked me hard and fast, causing unrecognisable noises from my voice box to ring throughout the air.

"Papa," I breathed, only spurring him on more. The room started to blur as his dick continued to ruin my insides, pushing against my G-spot. I felt my end approaching, the beautiful build-up spreading throughout my body. With one last thrust, his orgasm came inside of me, and so did mine - my body seemingly floating in the air as I forgot who I was or where I was. Relief and ecstasy flooding every part of my body - I could have sworn I was levitating.

We collapsed in a heap on the bed, strung up over each other, our heart-rates trying to return to normal as we came down from our orgasms. 

"I want to carry this on," He breathed, kissing my forehead gently.

"So do I," I smiled.

And with that, I turned over to sleep. My body was completely knackered. I felt his arm snake over me and pull me closer, our breathing slowly turning to snoring as the night turned to day.


	13. Holy Dark

I awoke before he did that following morning. My eyes fluttered open and were met with his sleeping face, serene and peaceful as he snored lightly into the pillow. I smiled and watched for a while, running my fingers over the arm that was still slung on my hip. He never even flinched.

His wife reappeared into my thoughts, bringing my satisfaction into a sadness that I couldn't explain. I wanted to wake up to him every morning. I'd known him for the best part of three days, but there was something beautifully addictive about having him as mine. _He'd never fully be mine_ , I thought.

I sighed, kissed his forehead softly and got out of bed as slowly as I could so not to disturb him. He still didn't budge. Flicking the kettle on, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and searched for his tshirt to cover my cold, naked body. It ached from last night, a welcome reminder of how he fucks, and a little pain in the back of my head niggled at me - where he'd pulled my hair back so tightly.

I made a cup of tea and sat in the little chair at the end of the room, sipping gently and continuing to watch him. The light from the morning cascaded through a peak in the curtains, illuminating the pale skin of his back where his spine visibly stuck out - like a fossil in water.

There was a knock at the door at around 9:30am, and I answered it quietly. I barely opened the door and stood in front of it, just in case it was Roxy. I didn't want her finding out about sharing a hotel room with him. I certainly didn't want her to know about his possessed soul, and the attack. I saw it more of a storm and silver lining situation - I'd have the vicious monster until I could have him. When I had him, on top of me, those emerald eyes fused with desire, everything was fine. 

Omega was on the other side of the door, no visible emotion on his face.

"Is he sleeping?" He asked, and I nodded, shushing him slightly. "Did he explain?"

I nodded again, and walked into the hotel hallway, closing the door softly behind me.

"He did. I'm going to take the risk," I spoke with hushed tones, and Omega nodded solemnly.

"You must care about him. I understand. Just know where I am when the possession gets too difficult to handle," He reassured me, pulling me into a quick hug. "You'll be fine. You're a brave woman, Tyla Toby,"

He let me go and started down the corridor.

"Back in the tour bus by one. I'll tell them that you've gone out, and that he's still sleeping," Omega winked over his shoulder, before stepping into the lift and leaving me alone in the hallway.

I smiled, knowing that the kind ghoul had my back, and entered back into my hotel room.

My blood ran cold as I saw the white eyes again. He was stood in the middle of the room, still naked. He grinned at me, an awful twisted expression that made me feel sick.

Without warning, he lunged for me and I just barely dodged him - sending him whirling into the wall. He seethed, and came for me again. I pushed onto his chest hard, watching him fall back onto the bed. I had to figure a way out to distract him and then pin him down. But how do you even pin down a demon?

An idea struck. 

"Allow me," I cooed, taking my shirt off. I sauntered up to the bed slowly, watching the monster's eyes be driven wild by the situation, and he stayed perfectly still. I straddled him lightly, then grabbed a blanket, separating his dick from me, and pinned him down backwards onto the bed. His arms flailed about like a fish out of water, but I kept them pinned on the bed. He roared at me.

"It's not you. It's not you. You have control," I repeated over and over, watching as the anger left his body slowly like sap from a tree. His breathing started to regulate and his eyes squeezed themselves shut. Paranoid of a trap, I kept him pinned down for ten minutes, my heart rate accelerating as I anxiously watched his body cease to move.

Finally, his eyes flickered open. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as they had returned to green. I'd beaten the beast.

"Not even my wife can control that," He panted, as I slowly unpinned his arms and released myself from on top of him, lying next to him on the bed.

"I don't know what I did," I admitted to him, and his hand found it's way to mine, nestling and intertwining our fingers together, and we lapped up the silence to think. "I'm not letting that bastard hurt me. Do you think he'll become more violent with me now?" I mumbled after a while, turning to face him.

His face radiated worry and confusion, as he admitted to me that he had no idea what the possession would do to me next time. But I'd beaten it once, so I could do it again. 

It's not as if I could be armed against him, because to harm him would harm my lover - the opposite to what I'd ever want to do.

"Let's just forget about it," He whispered, his voice sounding gruff and raspy. His hand brushed my hair backwards as he proceeding to get on top of me, making me gasp at how hard he was against my skin.

"Omega said we have to leave by one this afternoon," I mumbled against his neck, kissing it in between words - creating an appraisal of sighs and grumbles from him.

"With how much I want you, I'm pretty sure I'll have to carry you to the bus, Tyla," He warned, as his cock thrust into me.


	14. Oil on Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a small filler to prepare for the absolute storm that's going to happen in the next few chapters.
> 
> I'll give you a little hint of what to expect over the next few:  
> • Wives  
> • Someone else is fucking around too...

The evening passed in silence on the tour bus, as everyone was sleeping or doing their own thing. I couldn't sleep, although my body was at breaking point. Him and I had fucked for an hour or so, then gone out walking and talking. I wasn't used to such activity. Then, when I'd got back onto the tour bus - half an hour before he did to keep our arrangement hidden - I came crashing back down to earth.

Roxy was the only one awake, besides myself. Maya and Lana had long since passed out in their bunks, bodies exhausted from alcohol and last night's club scene. Roxy was curled up in the corner of the sofa on the bus, fiddling about with my old acoustic guitar and staring out to the black abyss of night that we drove into. I sat opposite her, my head balanced on the cold glass window, watching endless motorway lights pass us, occasionally meeting a quaint little ghost town that flooded the tour bus with neon lights - only for a few seconds, until the buildings were running away from us as we ventured on in the darkness. 

We didn't say much, but the silence was a comfort in disguise. She never questioned my absence from the party in the club that everyone had gone to last night. I noticed her eyes picking up my constant yawns, and they narrowed into slits for a couple of seconds. She opened her mouth a lot, like a fish, as if she was about to say something but never quite finding the words. 

After a few hours of silence, albeit her guitar strumming accompanied it, she finally spoke.

"You're sleeping with him, aren't you?" 

My breath caught in my throat as I was ready to deliver a well-rehearsed lie. But catching her eye, and seeing the serious look painted on her tanned face, I knew I couldn't hide it much longer. She was my best friend. She knew everything about me, sometimes before I did.

"Yes. But it won't affect the band, or his wife. Seriously," I admitted, placing a hand on her wrist, which lay across the fretboard of the guitar. "Him and his wife have a complication about their marriage - there is nothing wrong in what is happening," 

"We all know Alpha's closer to his wife than he is," Roxy stated. I bit my lip, not wanting to spill Mrs Papa's secret on her affair with Alpha. "That's why I haven't mentioned you and him sneaking around. I guessed the situation," 

I nodded, and Roxy held her arms out towards me to envelope me in a hug of expensive perfume. "His wife could show up on this tour at any time, Tyla. Can you deal with that?" 

I thought about the prospect of seeing my lover and his wife, cosy and loved-up together - abandoning me as his bedfellow for one night with the only woman he was lawfully supposed to have. The vision was so real, tears pricked my eyes and I buried my head in Roxy's shoulder. I tried not to show how much the idea hurt me, but she knew.

"It's ok, Tyla. But it will happen," She soothed and warned at the same time. I pulled away from her, nodding and taking the guitar from her lap.

For the rest of the night, we quietly sang songs. Our songs, Ghost's songs, any song we could think of. I played, Roxy sang. Just like in the early days of Crash Angels. 

I don't know why she didn't sleep that night. I never asked her - I was so wrapped up in my love life to notice - but it all became apparent, when the truth spilled out in the bar like oil from a tank...


	15. Another Fallen Angel

The next few days passed in a blur of performing, good times and fucking. Him and I were easing into a routine: fucking after soundcheck; a quick one after I came off stage, just before he went on and any other time we could. Lana and Maya were still oblivious, but Roxy knew every time I left. She never spoke a word.

Three days after she'd found out, all hell broke loose. 

The day began with him texting me at 8am, saying that his ghouls had all gone out for breakfast before the soundcheck. I quickly got dressed, slipping on a black silk and appeasingly low-cut dress, and left the tour bus quietly. I walked a few steps towards Ghost's tour bus, finding him standing inside with the door open. My mouth watered at the sight of him: his casual stance as he leaned against the door frame smoking a cigarette, shirtless; his pale skin reflecting in the sunlight and his jeans accompanied with an undone belt.

I walked up to him, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and having a drag. He smirked, pushing the cigarette out of my fingers and onto the ground before shoving me inside and locking the door.

"Now this, I can't handle," He grumbled, pinching a little bit of my dress, pulling it towards him. As fast as lightening, his hands pulled my breasts out of the dress and he leaned down. I felt my nipples tingle at the feeling of saliva coating them. His mouth was hooked over my breast, his tongue running patterns along my nipple, sending shots of a radiating pleasure through my body. My arms snaked around his neck, and I slowly walked backwards towards the sofa. His head bobbed up, his mouth finding mine, and we fell backwards onto the soft cushions as his tongue roamed around. He pulled away for a second, and his eyes met mine.

As soppy as it sounds, there was something so different in the way he looked at me that day. His eyes weren't full of lust and desire, but seemed to brim with affection and warmth. A tiny voice in the back of my head niggled away at me, suggesting that perhaps this wasn't just fucking anymore. I pushed it away, just wanting to savour the way he looked at me without thinking too much of it.

I leaned upwards, unbuttoning his jeans. He slowly slid them off his legs, along with his boxers. His eyes trailed down my body, radiating with sexual frustration.

"You are enchanting, Ghuleh," He whispered, planting a small kiss behind my ear.

"Ghuleh? That's Ghost's thing?" I asked him. I felt like the word 'Ghuleh' had a stigma of a groupie or female super fan to it, and I felt more than that to him.

"This is nothing to do with the band. But it just seems a good way to describe you right now,"

I nodded, and his hands slowly trailed down my dress. I started to pull it up, but his hands softly tapped mine.

"Leave it on. I like it,"

I planted kisses on his neck and nibbled at it as he caressed my body. I giggled when I saw the love bite form, and he smirked.

"Have you marked me, Tyla?"

"Of course,"

"I'm marking my territory too," his lips mumbled before they plunged onto my collarbone, biting and sucking until a soft-red bruise formed. My underwear was slowly pulled down my legs and slung aside, as he lined himself up. 

"I don't want to fuck you this time," He muttered, as he slowly plunged into me. His cock created a slow and steady rhythm inside of me, building a momentum that made my toes curl and my back arch in anticipation. 

He never fucked me hard like he usually did that day. It was more caring and attentive, slightly out of character.

"Cum, angel," He whispered into my ear, brushing his lips against my neck as he carried on thrusting into me. My sex started to tingle, and the orgasm washed over me like a bucket of holy water. It was different than I'd ever experienced, more beautiful and natural. It made my soul feel alive.

After that, I got dressed again and headed back to my tour bus. Lana and Maya were still asleep and I assumed Roxy had gone out for food, as she was nowhere to be found. I thought to ring her, wanting some energy myself after my morning sexercise, as I'd nicknamed it, but my phone was still in his tour bus. I prayed it was open, as he'd left the tour bus after I did to go and get breakfast. I tried the door, discovering that it was open, and teetered inside.

I gasped as I found Alpha in there, stripped naked and fucking a girl from behind.

"Sorry, I'll get my phone later," I yelled, running back to my tour bus.

Recovering from the mild shock from walking into my lover's wife's lover (not exactly a simple set-up) fucking someone, I started to think about what I'd seen. Was that my lover's wife that Alpha was fucking? Was she in town? 

He'd have told me if she was in town, right?

Although I only saw the back of her, and her hair cascading down her back, something didn't seem right. Papa had said I looked like his wife, yet that woman looked nothing like me. She was far skinnier in build, and her hair was completely straight - unlike my mess of curls- and a lot lighter than mine. 

But who else would Alpha be fucking?

I shook my head, trying to clear my confused thoughts, but they didn't go away. Why did he say I looked like his wife, when she looked more like Roxy to me? 

Roxy.

Where was Roxy?

I suddenly felt really sick as I clicked in on what I'd just seen. I'd just walked in on my best friend fucking Alpha.

No wonder she was so calm about me fucking around with Papa.

How could she make me feel like sleeping with Papa would ruin our careers, when she was screwing a ghoul at the same time? How long had this been going on? What would his wife say if she found out that two members of Ghost's support band were fucking her husband and her lover?

We soon found out...


	16. Double Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little filler for more preperation.

Roxy returned about half an hour later. As soon as she walked into the tour bus, she smiled and dashed over to the kitchen as if nothing had happened. 

"How's riding Alpha's cock?" I asked her, as casually as asking about the weather. A smash filled the air of the tour bus as Roxy dropped a mug that she was cleaning in the sink, swinging around to look at me with her mouth hanging open.

"What did you just say?" She sneered, walking up close to me. We were nose to nose, squared up to each other. Roxy wasn't usually hostile, unless something was mentioned that she didn't ever want to hear. I guess the truth about her lover struck a nerve.

"I just walked in on you with Alpha. You were so nasty towards me about Papa, yet you're doing the same thing!"

"He hasn't got a wife!"

"But you know he's fucking around with my lover's wife!" I yelled, pushing her shoulders away from me. She suddenly started giggling, anger fading by the second from her face.

"What a fucked-up situation," She remarked, shaking her head, still chuckling all the while. "It hasn't been going on long, I swear. Just the last couple of days. I don't know how it even happened. We just got really drunk that night when you didn't come out," 

I thought to when I was being raped by a monster, and she was out getting drunk and cosy with a ghoul.

"I know about the possession too," Roxy admitted, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"It's okay. I can handle it," I sighed. The anger in the air had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"Are you mad about Alpha?" Roxy asked, biting her lip in worry.

"No. Just more worried about Papa's wife showing up," 

"Maybe she won't," 

"I don't know," 

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, before Roxy jumped up and walked into the bunk room, pulling out clothes. She announced that we were all going out tonight, we didn't have a gig until tomorrow, and found the most provocative outfits she could.


	17. Pit of Fire

The club was busy when we entered. Roxy and I, geared in leather and lace, were the last ones out of us all to arrive. The rest of Crash and Ghost had secured us a booth, and drinks were waiting on the table for us.

I took a seat next to Papa, watching as Roxy precariously sat down next to Alpha. I smirked as his hand darted under the table, stroking her thigh lightly. I wondered how I'd never seen this before - they made it so obvious.

Papa's hand interlocked with mine under the table, and he shot me a grin. His face looked so calm and relaxed, albeit pale and slightly tired. I leaned in a little, and his grin widened as he kissed my lips, lingering for only a second before pulling away and taking a sip from his drink. No one from Ghost seemed surprised - however, Maya and Lana's faces scowled with narrowed eyes at me.

"It's fine," I yelled over the music, smiling at them over my drink. They shook their heads and Lana shrugged, going back to their own conversation.

The hours flew by in a mixture of laughing, talking and drinking. It was the best night I'd had so far, especially when he pulled me up to dance. The way he held me as we danced was so enticing - his hips thrusting slightly to the music as my back rested on his stomach. I faced away from him, grinding lightly. A couple of times, I lost myself in the music, entranced by the way he moved and his soft lips pecking at my neck occasionally. After that, everyone ended up on the dance floor. The ghouls, Crash, Papa and I - all jumping around and laughing on the dance floor. It couldn't get any better.

But it could get a lot worse.

After the dancing was over, and we were all dizzy from twirling each other around and our feet ached from the jumping, we took refuge back in our booth. We all sprawled out with each other, tired and drunk, when a woman walked into the club. The club had become quieter and close to closing time, so she stood out. We all looked up to see who it was, and it was soon made apparent to the Ghouls. Alpha shot up away from Roxy, running to the bar to the woman. Papa stared in their direction, a visible storm brewing in his beautiful eyes. Alpha brought the woman to the booth, and my mouth dropped open in shock. 

She looked like me. A lot like me. Her curls were the same craziness as mine, even though her hair was a lot shorter. She was dressed incredibly similar to me, hell - even her face resembled mine a little. 

It was his fucking wife.

"This is Elizabeth," Alpha announced to the group, mainly focusing on our band. His words tore right into my soul, and I could feel my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces, scattered around where she stood, as my lover got up and kissed her passionately. She was soon slammed against the bar, their mouths still as one. I noticed Roxy's hand snatch out towards Alpha's, who'd retaken his seat next to her, and he pushed her away lightly. 

This was it. Roxy and I were over with our adventures.

I motioned to her to come outside with me, and she nodded, her eyes glassy with tears. She struggled to walk in a straight line towards the smoking area door, a drunken haze combined with the waterworks of her eyes making her disorientated, and I wrapped my arm around her waist to steady her. Once outside, I guided her to a chair and sat her down.

I lit up a cigarette and sat down in the chair next to her.

"Give me a drag, Tyla," She pleaded, her voice cracking lightly from her hurt.

"You don't smoke anymore," I mumbled, as I handed her the cigarette.

"Right now, I do," Roxy sighed, taking a long drag and blowing out the smoke perfectly. Her hands grabbed at her hairline, shifting throughout her red strands of hair. "Can I have the rest of this?" She sniffed, taking another drag of the cigarette.

"Sure," I sighed, getting myself another one out of the packet and lighting it up.

"So I guess it's all over,"

"I guess it is," I sighed, tears forming in my own eyes.

"I just loved the way he made me feel, you know? I don't love him, I don't even fancy the man but he knows what to do to me," Roxy admitted, finishing the cigarette.

"I know, it's like --"

I was interrupted by the unmistakable smash of glass inside the club, and I looked at Roxy in panic. We both ran in to find Elizabeth screaming at Papa, my name mentioned several times, and Alpha holding her back.

"You can fucking keep your whore then. Carry on screwing Miss fucking Tyla Toby. Fucking keep this ring too," She roared, throwing a gold wedding ring at him, a clinking sound ringing through the air as it connected with his glass of alcohol that he held in his hand. "I only ever wanted him anyway," She snarled as she left, gesturing towards Alpha and holding his arm as they left the club - an invisible aura of anger leaving a trail behind them. I looked straight at my lover. His face looked defeated as it stared back to me. I turned to glance at Roxy, who was staring at the door as if Alpha was going to come back for her. 

"Fuck him," She grumbled to herself, as she stomped over to the bar and ordered a shot. She downed it, and went to sit next to Omega. He was incredibly consoling to her - he must have known about the fling, too.

I slowly walked up to Papa, as if there was an invisible barrier that I was struggling to gain entry to. He simply watched me, expressionless, until I sat down next to him.

"I left her for you," He suddenly sobbed, a few tears bubbling over the emeralds that stared at the table.

"I thought this was just fucking. She's your wife,"

"It's not just fucking, Tyla. It's not just that," He burst out, slamming his drink on the table. I jumped aback slightly, carefully watching his eyes and hoping they wouldn't turn to white, but they stayed crystal green. He took a deep breath, composing himself, as he tried to talk again. "I told you last time we had sex that I didn't want to fuck you,"

"Yeah, I had no idea what you meant," I cried.

"I want to love you, Tyla,"


	18. The Antichrist

I stared in shock at him. The sight of him, broken - green eyes swelled with tears and hints of regret - from her, and what she'd done to him. How could he want to love me - love another, right after that?

"Why?" was the only thing I could say to him. His response was a steely gaze, protruding through my soul just as it did in the beginning. 

"Just take me home, Ty," He mumbled, sighing to himself. He'd been through enough tonight. I didn't want to give him more grief.

So I did. We left, hand in hand, and I walked him back to his tour bus. We never said anything along the way, though the silence was comforting and somewhat reflective. It's what we needed. He stopped outside of my tour bus, waiting and watching me. I smiled gently, and unlocked Crash's tour bus. He nodded and walked in first, closing the door once I'd followed him inside. He removed his jeans and shoes, and sat in the sofa in his boxers and tshirt. 

I grabbed a duvet from my bunk and sat on the sofa next to him, covering us both up. 

"Can I stay with you tonight?" He asked, leaning his head on my shoulder.

"You don't have to ask me,"

"Will you play me something?"

His gaze fell on my acoustic guitar on the edge of the sofa next to him, and he passed it to me. Eagerly, he watching me with intent. I sighed and quickly tuned the guitar.

His hand stroked my leg as I played a lullaby melody, the mellow sound filling the air that surrounded us.

"Sing?" 

I giggled and stopped playing. 

"You don't ask for much, do you?" I muttered, returning to play, and he smiled. I began singing Jeff Buckley's arrangement of Hallelujah, so soft I could barely hear myself.

After a little while, his breathing became deeper and less regular as sleep came to him. I gently awoke him, and prised him into my bunk with the duvet in my arms. He flopped down in the bunk, pulling the duvet from my arms and pulling me with it, and fell straight back asleep. I lay there, my back to him as his arm slung itself across my hip. It would have been such a blissful way to sleep, if it weren't for the circumstances.

What was going to happen to Ghost if Alpha didn't come back? 

After a little while, the rest of the band came back, calling my name. They opened up the bunk room door and I ushered them to be quiet as their gazes fell upon him, sound asleep with his arm wrapped around me. Lana and Maya stared at him for a few seconds, before smiling sadly and making their way to their own bunks, snoring in seconds. Roxy was still in the main tour bus room.

An hour later, she made an appearance.

"Tyla. I have to talk to you," She whispered as she opened the door slightly ajar, and I nodded. As carefully as I could, I sneaked out of his grasp and tiptoed out of the bunk room.

"What's wrong?" I asked in hushed tones. Roxy looked a mess. Her face, usually tanned and pristine, was deathly pale - her makeup was streaked all down her face and her hair stuck up in bunches, as if she'd continually pulled at it.

"I've really messed up, I'm so sorry," She repeated over and over, breaking down in the middle of the tour bus. She sank to the ground, tears streaming like a waterfall down her bedraggled face.

"Roxette. Tell me what the fuck is going on, now," I scorned.

She took one long look at me, emotions crumbling within her eyes.

"I'm pregnant,"


	19. Possessed and Undressed

Roxy's words didn't quite bring recognition in my brain until a few seconds of staring had gone by. Roxy Lenner was pregnant, and we were on the verge of the second month of a ten-month long tour. How could I comprehend that?

"How can you be sure?" I exclaimed. I didn't want to believe it at all.

"It's there, in white and pink," She spat, waving a pregnancy test stick in my face. It was positive, with a 3+ weeks notification.

"But you've not been with Alpha that long?"

The night she got with Alpha was only two weeks ago - how could she be pregnant that quickly? How could she possibly be pregnant three weeks?

"I am so sorry, Tyla. I couldn't stop him," Roxy broke down again. The pain twisted in her face and caused a wave of salty tears to explode from her eyes. She was guiltily sorry about something.

Who couldn't she stop?

Suddenly, a sickly feeling fell over me as I thought about the only person that no-one could stop. The beast inside of Papa. My head whirled and my thoughts clambered on top of each other in my mind, fighting to be heard.

"The possession?" I bit back a sob, my eyes boring lasers into hers as she confirmed my worst fears.

Papa had been possessed. And somehow, he'd had his way with Roxy - and now she was pregnant with his baby. My lover's baby.  
No wonder she knew about the possession - she'd experienced it before I did. Intense anger grew inside of me as I realised that he'd not told me, and nor had she. Had she wanted this? 

"Did you want him?" I whispered, never breaking eye contact with her, although it was clear she was falling apart.

"I did. But not like that,"

Betrayal rushed through my veins and my heart, imploding me with a yearn to run away from the situation. She'd used the exact same words as I'd used to Omega when the beast tried to have me. How could she do this? How could the front woman of my band - my best friend - tell me that I should stay away from my lover when she wanted him from the beginning? 

Seeing her so broken, stood before me like a million shattered pieces of glass held together by gravity, snapped something inside of my mind. I had to get out. I had to get away from him, who was sleeping soundly in my bunk, and her, who'd conceived my lover's child. I wanted to run.

So I did. Grabbing my black rucksack from the sofa, I ignored her screams and shouts as I slung open the tour bus door and bolted in the opposite direction, unsure of where I was actually heading for. All I had in the bag was my bank card; some spare bits of cash; a pair of headphones; my phone charger and my phone.

At this time, we were in London. I was running around in a city I knew nothing about, or had ever visited in my life. Where could I go?

I checked my bag again, counting how much cash I had, when my fingers brushed across something else. 

My passport.

As I called a taxi, and patiently waited for it to arrive to whatever random street I'd found myself in, I knew exactly what I was going to do.

The taxi finally pulled up, and I hopped in the back seat. The driver was young and friendly, his cockney accent was incredibly strong when he asked where I was going.

"Heathrow Airport, please," I whispered, as he began to drive around the city of betrayal.


	20. Papa's Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written from Papa's point of view now, and this may continue for a few chapters. Tyla has gone.

I awoke with a series of monstrous headaches, a mouth drier than the Sahara and in an unfamiliar bunk. I lay for a few minutes, as the night before replayed itself to me in broken scenes. It was like an old VHS, the tape of the video ripped out in bits and pieces so that only small parts could somehow be played. 

Rising out of the bunk, I caught sight of a member of Crash sleeping in the top bunk that was opposite me. The blonde hair, sprinkled along the pillow like a dune of sand, gave it away to be Lana. 

Why was I in Crash's tour bus?

"Hey, where's Tyla?" Lana suddenly stirred, sitting upright and staring at me with swelled eyes from sleep.

"I don't know," I replied, realising that I slept in Tyla's bunk last night.

"She was asleep with you when I got in," Lana mumbled, stretching her olive limbs and jumping down from her bunk, barely making a sound as her weightless body propelled to the floor.

Lana's words compelled together the full version of last night's events in my head: my wife leaving with Alpha; admitting the truth to Tyla about how I felt; falling asleep to the sound of her voice and guitar in the main room of the bus.

So where was she?

"She's probably awake already with Roxy," Lana shrugged, as if she had read my thoughts, leading the way out of the tour bus bunk room to the main room. The other member of the band, the dark-skinned one who I think was named Maya, was soundly asleep in the bunk above Tyla's.

As Lana and I entered the main room, we were confronted to a sight of pure chaos. The room was a complete mess - papers thrown everywhere, smashed mugs and plates on the ground, a little foot stool laying in the middle of the room on it's side - but the room didn't reflect the real mess that was Roxy. Fully clothed and asleep, her eyes were swelled so badly that you could tell without her even opening them, with an empty bottle of whiskey lying on her chest. She was sprawled out on the sofa in the most bizarre form that she looked other-worldly.

"Rox, where's Tyla?" Lana shook her to awake, and she jolted upright. Her eyes were so bloodshot, but still glassy from the drink. If they were black and bruised, you could bet that she'd have been beaten up. She gazed around the room, somewhat dazed and disorientated.

"Where's Tyla, Roxanne?" Lana yelled, grabbing her by the cheeks so that she was forced to look at her bandmate's worried face. At the sound of Tyla's name, she burst into tears and sobbed like a siren. I shot a glance at Lana, worry creeping through my soul, as Lana shook Roxy again.

"She's gone. I don't think she's coming back,"

Lana's face dropped and she ran into the bunk room, leaving Roxy to sob by herself. I was just an invisible spirit to them, unable to process what Roxy had said. A couple of minutes later, Maya and Lana both returned from the bunk room, fully dressed, and left the bus. The door shut with a hefty slam, and I was left with an inconsolable Roxy.

"What happened?" I asked, and her eyes drifted up towards me, almost as if it was the first time she'd ever seen me.

"She took off. I'm pregnant," Her eye contact never broke with mine, albeit a stream still came flooding out of her eyes as she stared.

"Why would she leave if you're carrying Alpha's baby?" 

"It's not Alpha's. Papa, it's yours," 

The words hit me like a house brick on the side of my temples, causing me to sit down quickly and cradle my head. How could she be pregnant with my child? I'd never touched her. Tyla was the one that was constantly making me horny. Sure, Roxy was a beautiful woman and I'd have probably tried her back in the groupie days of Ghost, but it was Tyla that I was worked up for.

"You were possessed, I didn't know how to stop you," She ceased her crying, although sniffled every couple of seconds to regain regular breathing. She sighed, and the sound created a vibrant flood of the memories of a rapist beast that inhibited my soul. I was on top of her, and she was telling me that I was wrong - that I was Tyla's, and that I had a wife too. But I didn't stop. I fucked her. I fucked her harder than I'd ever fucked anyone. I'd choked her and made her pass out. I'd cut her badly.

I'd hurt her the most out of everyone that the beast had ever hurt. But the beast was inside of me - so I had done it all. 

Then I'd got her pregnant, and drove the woman I wanted away.

"I am so sorry, Roxy," I said, stating it with true shame and resignation. She'd been raped, man handled, and now she'd lost her best friend and her band mate. 

Because of me.

The guilt was too much to take, and I ran out of the tour bus - knocking into someone as I did. I looked up to apologise to the stranger, recognising Alpha's face.

"Tyla's missing?" was the first thing he said, a look of dread and worry painted on his face. I nodded, gesturing for him to come into Crash Angel's tour bus. Although things weren't left well with him and Roxy, I was hoping he'd be able to calm her down. 

I was never too good with hindsight. 

He walked in, and Roxy's face lifted in confusion. She stood up, a good metre away from him. They stood and stared at each other for a few seconds, before Alpha spoke.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" 

My brow furrowed as Roxy nodded. Alpha and Omega were the types of people who could sense a lot of things, to the point where it was quite compellingly creepy. I was dreading to see if Roxy would tell him that he was the father - I didn't want my wife...my ex-wife...to cause any more trouble. 

"Papa was possessed, and it just happened, I couldn't d-" Roxy blurted out. I ran back into the tour bus, standing in the middle of them both. I turned to look at Alpha as he cut her off.

"You fucking did this?" He sneered. "Is that why Tyla is missing?"

Then, with only a few seconds warning, I saw his arm fly backwards, with his hand in a fist. He was about to deliver a punch on me, and Alpha wasn't exactly the scrawny or skinny type. The last guy he'd fought had ended up in hospital in a very bad way, and he was far bigger than I was. I was small and fairly skinny; no match for him. 

The seconds seemed to tick by like hours as I dashed behind Roxy to dodge the blow. I closed my eyes as I heard the sound of a fist connecting with flesh, but felt no pain. My eyes shot open and watched as Roxy cradled her stomach, doubled over in pain where Alpha's punch had landed by mistake. 

Then came the blood gushing down her legs and on the floor, as Alpha stood and watched in shock.

"The baby! Call an ambulance," She screamed, as I scrambled for the phone.


	21. The Alpha Male

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * still Papa's point of view *  
> This is a very small filler chapter, and time moves very fast in it.

A few weeks passed in a blur of performing and grief. I still missed Tyla. I'd managed to find a stand-in musician for Crash Angels to continue on our tour - but it just wasn't the same. I missed the cheeky winks and head-banging that Tyla brought to that stage, the weird attraction that myself and other men had for her as she owned the stage as if she was born and bred on it. Lucifer knows, I missed her body a whole lot more. Since she'd been gone, the possessions had become more frequent, to the point where everyone avoided me throughout the day. I think even the beast was missing her. 

The baby was completely fine. Roxy never told us too much about her trip to the hospital, only that her child was safe. I didn't push her further, but the image of the blood trailing down her legs just couldn't leave my mind. What was it?   
Alpha was still in the band and my wife's location was unknown. Alpha hadn't told me much either, just that he wasn't planning on keeping my wife any longer. She was lost, just like Tyla. Another similarity between them both. 

Upon reflection, those weeks were so secretive. No one told me a whole lot, I was avoided by everybody and stuck in the grief of having no-one. The whole thing that kept me positive were the fans that came religiously to the rituals - their claps and cheers fuelled my soul to carry on in this wayward tour. But I knew I was completely fucked up, even with female fans throwing themselves to my feet and wanting me to take them (and myself wanting to, also), I just couldn't do it. Tyla Tobias swirled around in my brain in her own little bubble, not daring to be popped, and consuming every single moment of the day. I felt so tied down by this woman.

Within the next few months, I received divorce papers, and by the time the tour ended, I was a single man with nothing to do anymore. Tyla never came back.

...well, she never came back until the following year.


	22. Bitch is Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Tyla's point of view now. I know she's only been gone for a few chapters, but I needed the time skip.

It was after three months of travelling that I found somewhere to call home. After that night when I'd ran away, I'd done a Lisbeth Salander. Like in that trilogy by Stieg Larsson, where the main female character ends up travelling wherever she wants to escape to, I'd been on my own little tour of holidays. I'd sang in a few places, but other than that, I'd just experienced life in other countries. On an exasperated whim to find somewhere to feel comfortable, I booked a last minute flight to Sweden.

I fell in love with Sweden as soon as I left the airport. Cutting a long story short, I'd used inheritance money from my parents to buy an apartment in Stockholm. It was the first time I'd truly felt like I belonged somewhere, apart from being on stage. I hadn't spoken to Roxy or him since I'd left. I didn't know where to begin if I did. The hurt had faded, and over my reflection time on every plane journey I'd taken, I'd come to realise that it wasn't his or her fault. It was impossible to stop that ravaging beast that swarmed within his kind soul - I'd been lucky to stop it. She'd have had the baby by now. I hated myself for not contacting her, not being there for her whilst she brought a new life into the world. She was my best friend. When my parents had died when I was barely a teenager, her family had took me in. But as much as the guilt wracked me, I just couldn't speak to her. Sadly, I just couldn't help but think if my lover was with her now, if they were together, if he played any role in his child's life. I couldn't quite bring myself to learn the truth.

I didn't know a lot of people in Stockholm, but had got friendly with my 'roof neighbour', as I nicknamed her. My apartment was on the top floor, meaning my balcony was on the roof of the building, and she lived next door. We'd greeted each other with friendliness when we saw each other on our balconies, and it became routine for us to both sit on our balconies at night with a glass of wine and good music. We rarely spoke to each other - all Annette and I did was make playlists. We were happy in our company, but not being alone. It just worked. After a couple of months, she invited me on a night out.

"Tyla, we need to get out sometime," She said. She spoke mainly in Swedish, and over the months I'd learned a lot of the language from living in Stockholm. It's hard to not pick up on something you hear constantly.

"Wine and music not enough?" I joked, and Annette laughed, a big toothy grin on her pale skin. She was an albino, and very skinny. She reminded me a little deer.

"Not in our pyjamas," She laughed back. "Get ready, I'll knock on your door in an hour," She smiled, draining her glass of wine and making her way back into her apartment.

"Blast some metal then," I shouted, walking into my own apartment. She obeyed, and seconds later her music bounced into the walls of my apartment. I looked into my wardrobe, selecting a leather dress with a low cut neckline. I paired it with fishnets and doc martens. I couldn't be too bothered to put on a lot of makeup, and my hair was it's usual dark afro of curls. It was getting far too long. 

Exactly an hour later, Annette knocked at my apartment door. Grabbing a studded leather bag, I left my apartment and let her lead me to wherever we were planning to get drunk.

We ended up in another apartment. A friend of hers was throwing a rock and metal party, and it was in full swing by the time we arrived. As soon as I entered the place, I felt a little buzz in my chest with excitement. There were so many people like me, drunk and moshing in the tiny apartment. I smiled at Annette and she smirked back. She grabbed my wrist and lead me through the mini pit to the kitchen.

"Poison," She said in english, pointing to all the alcohol that was lined up on the kitchen island. I looked on wistfully, registering all the names. I settled on some kind of lager, drinking it from the can. Grabbing a glass of whiskey, she pulled me back into the main room. 

"Let's rock," She screamed as she downed her glass, and we jumped into the pit. I'm fairly sure the majority of my can had been spilled on other people, but they were so happy that they didn't care. As we all jumped around to a Disturbed song, I truly felt happiness. The stress and guilt of the last eleven months slowly faded away from me as I lost myself in the screams and the jumping. Annette and I grinned and screamed at each other for the next hour, vacant within the moshing and music. 

We peeled away from the little crowd, sweating and out of breath for a cigarette break. We sat on the kitchen island amidst the slowly decreasing amount of alcohol. We smoked and giggled, and Annette drank whatever she could find. She fairly wasted, but I was still sober. I'd only had a few sips of that lager and a glass of wine before I left, too happy to be bothered to drink anything else. 

"I need the bathroom," I told her in swedish, hopping off the counter and wandering around the busy apartment. I found myself in a corridor, where the bathroom lay at the end of it. I waited outside, as it was locked and occupied. A minute later, the door opened and I wanted the ground to swallow me. 

The sight of him caused a flood from my sex. It throbbed in desperation from seeing him. Flushed and bothered, I stared at him.

"Tyla?" He spoke, testing my name on his tongue. I wanted that tongue down my throat. Even though I hadn't seen him in so long, the attraction that I had to him was still completely obvious. Everything that had happened suddenly faded, as his eyes stared into mine. I had missed those emerald eyes.

"Fuck it," He whispered, as he lunged for me. His lips met mine and the whole party just faded away as he shoved me in a nearby bedroom, his tongue never leaving my throat.


	23. Drömma

I lay on the double bed we'd landed on, hell knows who's it was. I pushed him away from my mouth a little to just look at him. I didn't want to forget him, or this moment. He smiled softly at me, his eyes searching me. The way my soul had been searching for him for months without my mind allowing it.  
In that moment, just staring at him and him staring back down at me, both of us smiling and our eyes dancing with lust and something more than lust, I truly fell in love with him. Of all the moments we'd had together, it was this one that made me realise how much I needed him and not just wanted him. It wasn't his fault that the beast managed to have Roxy, or that he didn't remember. He did tell me in the beginning that he occasionally gets a black out during the possessions. I wanted to focus on right now, and what was right in front of me.

"I love you," I whispered, the taste of my words leaving a sweet scent in my mouth as his eyes widened in shock.

"Say it again," He commanded, pushing my shoulders further into the bed we lay on.

"I love you," I exclaimed, as loud as my voice would allow me, and he continued to stare at me. After a few moments of just eye contact and a mixture of conflicting feelings washing over me, his mouth broke into such a beautiful grin that I wanted to cry. I'd missed that so much, and never knew until I'd seen it again. The saying was true: you don't know what you've got until it's gone. But it came back.

"I love you, Tyla," He replied, leaning in again. Those three words changed something within us, and the lust started to dissipate. We continued to kiss, our lips slowly trembling as they locked together.

"Make love to me," I whispered in between the kiss, using his real name. He pulled back quickly, smiling like he'd won everything in the world.

"I've wanted to for a long time," He admitted, his hands starting to roam delicately down the leather fabric of my dress. I couldn't help noticing the difference in his touch - his hands ravishing my body as if he had all the time in the world. The urgent lust was gone, replaced with long lasting love and stimulation.

He pulled my upper body torso upwards so that I was sat upright, and began slowly slipping the dress over my head and unclipping my bra. They were discarded onto the floor and he leaned down and placed tender little pecks on my collarbones. I moaned, remembering the familiar feeling that he always created with the way he fucked. His mouth formed into a little grin at hearing my moaning again after so long, and he continued to kiss every centimetre of my skin. He travelled downwards with his mouth, taking the top of my fishnets in between his teeth and slowly peeling them from my legs. He stopped when they reached my ankles, and I kicked off my doc martens so he could fully undress me. He stood upright in the middle of the room, taking intricate time to remove his clothes. He locked the bedroom door, and pounced on me. My underwear was soon removed and we were completely naked, skin on skin. The heat from his flesh made my body sweat.

His mouth went back downwards, finding my sopping wet pussy. He kissed the top of my clit, as if to test me, and then went to work. I let out exasperated moans in between his sucking and kissing, and the room started spinning. I grabbed at the sleek black hair on his head as my vision faded away. I was so fucking close.  
Moments later, I cried out as swarms of lovingly missed ecstasy warmed it's way through my body. My pussy was throbbing as I saw white light, and my back arched from the orgasm.

"I have missed making you cum," He grumbled, his voice so gruff and husky that it made the orgasm last so much longer than usual. Once the room slowly came back into my vision, and his beautiful face hovering above my sex was clear, I sat upright.

"Lie down," I softly said, and he lay down on the bed looking up at me. I stared at his dick, magnificently erect. I slowly lowered myself onto it, and he watched intently. I slowly started to ride him and then built up a steady pace, the feeling of him inside me making me feel like we were the only people on earth. Our sex was somewhat more caring and slow, and we truly made love as he slowly came inside of me as he grunted. We collapsed in a heap in the person's bed we'd deflowered, savouring the moments with each other. A silence settled around us, both of us ignoring the blaring music coming from the apartment.

"I don't want to talk about the past," I broke the quiet, and he kissed my temple softly.

"We don't have to, as long as you don't take off again," He sighed, pulling me closer into his chest.

"I promise I won't. I live in Sweden now,"

"You do?"

"Indeed. I have an apartment here," I smiled and he grinned back.

"We have so much to talk about," He mumbled. I nodded in response. I didn't want to talk about what had happened before I left, but I owed it to him to tell him how I ended up in Sweden. So we got dressed again, left the bedroom and entered the kitchen, hand in hand.

"I knew you were the Tyla he was talking about," Annette laughed as she saw us both, and my eyes widened. She must have known my lover this whole time, and put two and two together. The little sneak!

"Wait, you're the neighbour that Annette kept telling me about?" He asked me. I had no idea what to say to both of them, so I just started giggling. Annette decided to walk back to the apartments with us, and we dropped her off at her door. We hugged and said goodnight, the first time I'd ever made any personal contact with her, and I unlocked my apartment next door. I beckoned my love into my apartment, cracking upon a bottle of wine as he surveyed my place.


	24. The Resolver

As I passed him the glass of wine, he nodded in thanks. His mind seemed to be elsewhere as his eyes roamed around my apartment, taking in the epitome of glass panels and wooden floorboards. His eyes fell onto the balcony, and he slid open the door to allow the cold early morning air to come rushing in. It was only a few hours from sunrise. He made his way carefully outside and sat himself down in one of the cushy chairs that lived on the balcony. Placing his half-drained glass of wine onto the little table outside, he turned to look into the apartment again. His eyes fell on me, and he smiled softly as he beckoned me to come over.

"I'm just putting some food in the oven," I shouted to him, placing a pizza in the oven and shutting the door. Making my way outside, the cool air started to hit me. Little goosebumps formed onto my skin, my arms were icy, as I sat down and looked at him. He was lost in the view of busy Stockholm, the lights of the night reflecting in his conflicted eyes.

"Why Sweden?" He asked quietly, and I looked on towards the skylines of Stockholm.

"It felt right," I replied, sipping the wine slowly. "I'd been travelling to random countries, and I ended up here about four months ago. I loved it. I just felt so comfortable here, like somewhere I could live my life happily. So I bought the apartment, and haven't moved since,"

He nodded, taking in the information.  
"What did you do for money? This place surely cost more than what you got from Crash Angels..."

"I had a hefty inheritance,"

"I'm sorry, Tyla," He sighed sincerely, placing his hand on my knee gently. "I never asked, but Alpha told me they'd passed away. Roxy had told him,"

"It's not exactly a secret. They passed away when I was barely into my teenage years. My dad was murdered, he was in a lot of trouble at the time. He dealt with gangs and this empire of criminals that he wouldn't tell us about. My mum committed suicide a few months later, and I lived with Roxy since,"

"You deserve so much more,"

"What people get and what people deserve are two completely different things. But what I did get, I'm okay with. My parents were rarely around anyway,"

“Did you ever have a childhood, Tyla?”

“Yes, but not in the most conventional way. I’m happy with how I’ve lived my life,”

"Well, I'll never leave you," He said softly, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer to him. Placing a light kiss on my right temple, I nuzzled my chin into his neck. We sat there for a small while, watching the life of Stockholm slowly dimmer down as sunrise started to creep in. I stood up to walk back into my apartment, and took the pizza out of the oven. I plated it and brought it out onto the balcony with the opened bottle of wine. He grinned and dug into the food.

We were so happy. Just us two, in a country we both felt comfortable in, drinking wine and eating pizza as we watched the sky lighten and the sun slowly rise over the horizon of Sweden. We were the only people in the world, and all we had was each other. Since we'd found each other again, things had changed, and the tour seemed like old history. It was the present that was the best thing we had. 

But everyone knows that the past would always return, especially if you’re trying to run away from it. We both knew, in our hearts, that the past would come billowing out in a mixture of old faces, alcohol and forgotten arguments one way or another. But for that current moment, we didn’t anticipate it to come so soon.

As Stockholm began to wake up and face the day whilst the sun rose, we were just starting to give in to sleep. Delicately snoozing with his head balanced on mine, his mind foggy with wine, I awoke him gently. He smiled as he woke up and, dizzy with sleep, allowed me to lead him to my bedroom. He collapsed down on my bed, pulling the duvet and blankets over him, and became unconscious in a sleepy oblivion once again. I lay next to him, awake for a few minutes, as my breathing started to slow and I joined him into oblivion.


	25. The Death of T

We awoke late in the afternoon, sprawled out together like a jumble of interlocked pale limbs. My head was nestled into the crook of his neck, his arm outstretched over my hip lazily. I was the first one to wake, seconds before his own eyelids slowly fluttered open. Being met with those sparkling green eyes, the first thing I could see when I woke up, was a remarkable feeling. True peace had settled in both of our souls. It felt like true love had found us at last.

He bid me a good morning and crashed his lips onto mine, dry from sleep. His tongue roamed delicately, like a little fish in the sea, over my own tongue. I suckled at his bottom lip a little.

I made him breakfast that morning. He watched and laughed as I played Meliora on vinyl in the apartment, dancing around to Deus in Absentia as I flipped pancakes in the pan on my stove. We were like a normal couple – no awkward past trying to ruin us, or anyone to try and keep us apart. I knew, deep in my subconscious, that it wouldn’t last too long: in hindsight, I think we both knew that our past would eventually bubble up to ruin us, but we played along to the cards that the universe had dealt us – love and contempt.  
Serving the pancakes with fruit and syrup, we sat down on the marble kitchen island and dug into our breakfast – which was, more or less, a four p.m. snack. Afterwards, we got dressed and decided to take a walk around Stockholm.

“Where do you live?” I asked him, as I slid a plain white t-shirt over my head.

“Not too far from here. I’ll take you to my place a little later,”

I smiled and nodded to him, pulling a pair of black ripped jeans over my thighs and buttoning them up. I grabbed a little black hat and placed it over my unruly hair, and slipped on a little black pair of boots.

“You look so sweet,” He smiled, as he slipped his leather jacket onto his shoulders. I shrugged on my own oversized leather jacket.

I giggled in self-conscious appreciation at his compliment, and we left my apartment with our hands locked together tightly, as if we were daring the world to try and break them apart. Stockholm was cold that afternoon, as we walked the busy streets. People were just finishing work, ready to bustle away to their families and their homes. Journalists in suits and carrying briefcases strode past us, and powerful women strutted by in their pencil skirts and smart blazers. I wondered about their lives – how did they live in comparison to me? What had happened in their existence? How do they feel right now?

He interrupted my pondering by pulling my arm gently as he stopped outside a little bar. It looked more like an English pub, reminding me slightly of my home country, but I followed him into there. We both had a pint of lager, and sat on stools at the bar.

“There’s a studio in my house. You’re free to use it, Tyla. I’d love to see what you could create by yourself,” He began the conversation, taking time to sip on his pint in between his words.

“I don’t know. I’ve always been with Roxy,” I sighed, remembering the process of writing Crash Angels’ first and only album. I wrote all the songs, but always had Roxy with me for her opinion and occasionally input. She never wrote anything or developed a melody, but would choose between a variety of melodies that I’d randomly play in exasperation. Lyrics came easy to me, and I view songs as a form of poetry, but putting those pieces of literature to music was one of the most difficult things. I’d find a good riff, or create a great backing track, but not develop a song to fit with it. 

“I’ll be with you whenever you need me, if you need an opinion. I know that I’m not Roxy, but I just want to help you,”

“Thank you. I’m going to try,” I promised, draining the rest of my pint.

“I’ve never known a woman drink pints like a bachelor in his prime,” Papa remarked, as I’d already downed half of my second pint. 

“I’m English, it’s what we do,” I joked back. We stayed at the bar for a little while, and decided to leave and head to his place after my third pint. We left our empty glasses on the bar and started to get down from our stools. The bar door creaked as it opened, and a young woman (that looked oddly familiar) walked in. As she came closer to the bar and ordered a drink, I recognised the familiarity. His ex-wife was here. 

“Well, I heard that you were dead,” Elizabeth spoke, shooting a glance at me.

“I signed the divorce papers, how could I be dead?”

“Not you. Tyla,”

My eyes widened in shock as Elizabeth’s heavily outlined eyes stared me down. “Who said I was dead?”

“Alpha told me that six months after you left, Roxy said you were dead,” Elizabeth grinned at me with an expression that resembled a scheming snake, and sauntered away with her drink. “I’ll make sure to tell Alpha that you’re alive,” She winked over her shoulder, disappearing into another room of the bar. 

“I need to find out she’s talking about. Roxy never told me this during the tour,” Papa grumbled, stalking after his ex. I hung back and ordered another pint, trusting my lover. He returned about ten minutes later, his face whiter than usual.

“Roxy didn’t tell me on tour because she didn’t want to upset me. Apparently, Crash Angels’ manager had received a phone call saying you’d committed suicide by jumping from a bridge abroad,” He said slowly, and I felt like my ears were bleeding at the sheer lies that sprang from his mouth. No wonder Roxy or any of the bands had tried to contact me – they all thought I was dead. They all thought I was no longer on this earth, unable to take the betrayal from my best friend and my lover. My mind seemed to shatter as I tried to comprehend how Roxy must have been feeling – if that story had have been true, then she’d have thought that the rape and the baby would have been the reason that I’d killed myself. But I was alive, and no longer had any ill feelings. But how could I contact anyone now? 

Just how could I ring one of my band mates and explain? “Hey it’s Tyla, I’m not dead, I’ve just been travelling. I don’t know who told you that I committed suicide but I didn’t,”…I don’t think that would have cut it.

“Let’s leave, please,” I asked Papa, and he nodded, looking as shell shocked as I did. We walked in an impending silence to his home.


	26. Suicide Instead of Scandal

His home was just as I’d expected it. It wasn’t minimal or cluttered, it wasn’t overly dark or brightly illuminated – it was just a cosy, lived in home. I didn’t pay much attention to the surroundings I was in – I was too preoccupied thinking about Elizabeth’s revelation. I’d been travelling all over the world – surely someone would have recognised me? Surely, there’d have been news about my death not being true? Crash Angels were the height of the news last year, and after winning our Grammy and collecting three trophies from the Heavy Metal Music awards, we were constantly talked about in the media.

“Can I use a computer, please?” I asked him, as he stood in his kitchen making me a cup of tea.

“It’s in the studio,” He smiled, grabbing my hand and holding my tea in the other. He led me to an extended part of his house, and opened the door. The room was dark inside, with the walls completely covered in polystyrene sound-proofing material. I found an Apple Mac set up on a desk, and sat down to use it. I waited until he left and then I opened up Google and googled my name. Not a lot came up for ‘Tyla Tobias’, so I googled the name I got called in the media. ‘Tyla Toby’ brought up a lot of online articles, mainly about the success of Crash. There were a lot of web pages speculating about my absence from Ghost’s tour after I left. There were also a lot of results about a relationship with Papa, and a lot of photos of us together. But there was nothing about a suicide, or about my death. I did find a forum with theories on my disappearance, but there were so many people reporting sightings of me. There was a few pictures attached that I didn’t even know had been taken, mainly in Stockholm and a few of myself in India. Some people were saying that I’d fallen out with Roxy, some had said that I’d broken up with Papa and left tour. Some said I’d been blackmailed – the theories went on for at least ten web pages. I pondered on how people could be that interested on my whereabouts, and the situation with the band.

If only they knew the full story, they’d be blown away.

So was Elizabeth truly telling the truth if there were no death conspiracies online? Surely the news would have gotten out if two bands and a management were under the impression that I was dead?

As much as I distrusted Elizabeth Forge, I couldn’t quite grasp the idea that she’d made up the whole story.

“What are you doing?” He entered the room again, placing his firm hands on my shoulders. He read over my shoulder the webpage I was currently on, and he sighed.

“Is Elizabeth psychotic?” I asked, and he shot a bizarre look at me.

“If you’re asking me if she’s capable of making up a story like that, I’d say no. She’s been tipped off somewhere,”

“But there’s nothing online about it. There’s a forum here with pictures of me,” I sighed, showing him the photos I’d found. “Wouldn’t they have googled me? Or somehow known about these pictures?”

“I can’t understand it, Tyla. I’m going to call Alpha and ask them what’s going on,” 

He left the room with his phone in his hand, as I stared at the computer screen in a contemplating silence. I waited for him to return with some news, but he was gone for a good ten minutes. I could hear mumbling from the living room. Grabbing the empty cup from the desk, I walked past him into the kitchen. I washed the cup and stood in the doorway to the living room, seeing if I could pick anything up from his phone conversation.

“Roxy, that’s wrong. You can’t cover it all up by saying she’s dead,” I heard him suddenly yell down the phone. He slammed down the phone onto the coffee table and lay backwards on the sofa, breathing heavily. I stood in the doorway still, dazed and confused. I thought he was ringing Alpha, why was Roxy on the phone? And what was this covering-up business?

“Baby, what’s happened?” I whispered, and he shot around on the sofa to look at me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were there,” He sighed in exasperation, and patted the empty space on the sofa next to him. “Sit down,”

I obeyed him and walked slowly to the sofa, sitting down next to him. He held my hand tightly.

“I rang Alpha, and told him what Elizabeth said. I couldn’t hear him properly, he said he had the baby in his arms, so he put Roxy on the phone,”

“So she has had the baby. Alpha’s bringing it up?”

“As far as I know, they’ve been together since the end of tour,” He took a deep breath and carried on talking. “Anyway, Roxy told me everything. She said she’s not mad at you, and understands that you had to get away from everything. But she couldn’t tell Crash’s manager the full story about us and the possession, and Elizabeth and the baby and everything – so she panicked and said you’d died. She doesn’t know how it changed to committing suicide, but she said you’d died to cover up any scandal that may have come out,” 

I took in all the information with an unbiased mind. I understood Roxy, and I knew what she was like under pressure with trying to lie – but why hadn’t she contacted me? I mean, she said she understood that I wanted some space, but it had been a few months away from a year.

“I’m going to leave them all alone. It’s just us now,” I declared to him, and he nodded. I wasn’t going to contact Roxy, when she was happy raising her child with Alpha, and the other band members hadn’t bothered to contact me either. They were in the past, and I was looking to the future. “I feel like writing a song,” I smiled, and Papa grinned. He jumped up, grabbed my wrist and did a bizarre half-walk, half-skip to the studio room.

“Let’s make music,” He whispered, as he leaned in and kissed my mouth softly, his hands firmly clasped to my butt cheeks.


	27. Sweet Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm sorry I've disappeared for a while, I did mention in the comments that a family friend passed away so I took a break with my family to come to terms with it. Thank you for still reading.

We made sweet music that afternoon, purely to forget everyone else in the world.

We stayed in the studio for a while, him sat at a mixing desk on a swivelling chair and myself pacing around.

"Calm down, Tyla," He soothed, spinning around on the chair and watching me with burning intent as I walked the room, doing laps within seconds. He softly reached for my hand and pulled me closer to him, his legs open as I came near. I sat on his lap and wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me as I placed my aching head on his chest. The warm embrace lasted a minute in silence, before his hand cupped my chin and raised my head. Just making eye contact with him made my chest burn.

"Let me take your mind away from it," He whispered, his mouth inching towards my neck. The feeling of his lips tickling my skin made me arch my back, granting him more access to my flesh. His teeth made light, nibbling work as they grazed across the side of my neck. Taking his time, he lavished my skin softly, before suddenly biting down and sucking. I moaned in shock and pleasure, spurring him on more. When he let go of my flesh, the charming bastard grinned at the mark he'd created. His lips found their way to mine, and his hands cupped my backside as he stood up. I gripped onto him, and he slowly walked to the bedroom, his lips never straying away from mine.

The affection broke as he slammed me down on the bed.

"I want to have you like I've never had you before. It may hurt you, but tell me if you want to stop. I swear, it's not the demon," He spoke clearly, his eyes were lasers into mine. 

"I trust you," 

No sooner had my words left my mouth, he'd flipped me over and grabbed my hair, pulling my neck backwards. I screamed slightly in shock, and he released me slightly. His grip was still strong on me though, as he pushed my skirt upwards. In one swift movement, my underwear was scraped down my thighs and his fingers thrust straight into me. With quick and darting movements, he massaged me into a sweet, wet waterfall for him. Again, without warning, his hard cock came billowing into my soaked pussy. I screamed in shock, only causing him to grab my hair harder. My body was trapped, and he fucked me so hard that I saw double. With every thrust was a scream, from every scream was a growl, and from every growl was a moan. It was the most incredible cycle. 

"Come on, Tyla. Now. Fucking cum now," He growled into my ear, and my body obeyed him as I collapsed onto the bed, screaming as my soul lifted away from my body and sent every bone in my body to feel like it had been rattled and electrified. He chuckled as I lay on my stomach, half naked and panting from what he'd done.

"Are you trying to destroy me?" I whined, managing to flip over onto my back. 

He simply smiled, and lay down next to me, trying to come down from his orgasm. 

A moment later, I felt a burning white pain circle around in my stomach and work its way up to my chest. My blood felt like it was filled with venom, and a sharp pain clouded my vision. Reality ebbed away from me as the hot fire and anger flooded my body. I recollect flipping my body over onto him, and my hand resting around his neck.

"Tyla, stop, I can't breathe!" He panted as my hands squeezed his neck, applying more and more pressure every couple of seconds.

"Your eyes are fucking white," He screamed as I felt the life from him seep away.


	28. Leave Out All The Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. This chapter is dedicated to Chester Bennington. I found out the news and broke down - his last ever show in Birmingham with Linkin Park was the first show of LP's that I'd ever attended. He was a true musician and believed to be a fantastic man - this chapter is hugely inspired by what has happened.
> 
> If any of you readers ever feel alone, or want help from someone they don't have to see everyday, I'm always here to talk. Please talk to someone if you feel down.
> 
> P.S - This story is nearly finished now. Only one or two chapters left after this x

Papa's words rang through my head as I slowly released my hand and the burning pain in my soul cooled down. He was still for a few seconds, then let out a huge gasp for air as I cowered on top of him, terrified. My hands shook in mid air as he gazed at me, his brow furrowed in anger and confusion. His face broke me down. How could this have happened?

I darted away from him. My head felt clouded and full of dizzy anxiety, and a wave of nausea overcame me as I sprinted to the bathroom and threw up in fear. I felt hands pull my hair back gently, and I pushed them away in between my vomiting. I didn't want him to touch me. I was a monster. He tried a couple more times to be there for me, to try and coax me back to him, but I just screamed and screamed. He eventually backed off, and shut the bathroom door as he left. I was left alone, sweating and naked on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor - just myself and my thoughts. I recollected how frightened I'd been when I'd experienced his possession, and how much pain I was in - now, I was the same. Somehow, somewhere along the line, the monster had found it's way inside my own soul. I'd nearly killed my lover after one possession. What would happen if I stayed? 

He couldn't control the possession like I could control his.

"Tyla," He pleaded, knocking on the bathroom door. My body felt exhausted, and I let out a small cry as he continued to knock on the door. He opened the door slowly, his eyes boring into me as I leaned against the bath, an empty feeling consuming me. He walked towards me somewhat hesitantly, and sat down opposite me on the floor.

"Don't leave," He whispered. My head snapped upright and my heavy eyes met his. 

"How did you know?"

"I know you're scared, Tyla. I know. But we can do this. We can control it," 

"I nearly killed you,"

"You controlled my demons, I can do the same for you. I love you, Tyla. I do. You'll be better soon, I'll help you," 

"Just let me go," I sighed, using his real name. "It's too dangerous," 

His emerald eyes seemed defeated as he observed me lift myself up from the floor and leave the bathroom. I quickly got dressed and grabbed my bag, my eyes brimming with tears.

"When you're feeling empty, you'll keep me in your memory, right?" He spoke softly as he leaned on the door frame of his bedroom door. His hair stuck up in all directions, and his arms drooped by his sides, as if they weren't part of his body. 

"I promise," I smiled sadly. "Forget the wrong that I've done,"

He nodded in silence. 

I never looked back at him as I left his home, and made my way back to my own flat in Stockholm. I didn't doubt that I'd see him again, someday, but for now - I had to control the beast that we shared. Goodbye was never my favourite word, but in my head, that was what it was. Papa and I were a rollercoaster from the beginning, and something that should have never happened, but it did. My band mates, ex-bandmates should I say, had warned me it would end in tears.

I sat in my apartment that night with no friends, no lover and no career. But I was going to hold on. I was going to learn about the possession, overcome my demons and make my way back into the world.

On my own.


	29. I Knew You Wouldn't Crash and Burn, Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the ending of a rollercoaster of a story. I will be starting another story soon, but for now if anyone has any oneshot ideas or little scenarios they want written, feel free to comment.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the reads, the kudos and the comments. I love the comments and the reactions to what I write, and I'm grateful to all you sinners for reading x

And this is where my story ends. I never went back to him after that night, and rebuilding my life was tough.  
I never experienced any possessions since I last saw him, but have occasionally felt a vicious anger creep in - but it left as quick as it came. I fell back into music, but as a solo artist. I was recognised again within a couple of years - newspaper headlines bringing me back from the dead and I became a watched woman of the public eye. Music drove me to happiness, and I found my identity again. Touring was non-stop for me, and I loved every single second of it.

There's nothing much to say about how life went after Papa and I declared an ending. Only one moment is worth of mention, which occurred in the bar I first kissed Papa in. As soon as I walked in, Crash Angels' first single was playing, and I smiled to myself. I ordered a drink and minded my own business, happy in life and watching the nightlife head bang around the dance floor. I made my way to the dance floor at one point, dragged there by other musicians who I knew, and the whiskey flowed freely. I felt so accomplished that night.

I walked back to the bar to order more whiskey, and out of the corner of my eye I saw faces that I recognised. I looked swiftly to the right, and my eyes met with Roxy. She smiled softly at me. Her appearance hadn't altered at all, and neither had the rest of my band mates. They all watched me, and I looked at them back, both of us unsure about what to do. After a few moments, Roxy made her way towards me and put her arms around me. I clung to her, and we both shed a few tears. None of us spoke about the past, but all drank a few a whiskies to our memories. 

The DJ must have twigged our reunion, and announced to the club that he wanted us to play together again, a one-night only thing. We didn't get much of a say as the crowd dragged us to the stage, and we took the instruments that we already set up. 

Playing with Crash felt like home, and we all clicked instantly. The chemistry was back, and the past was forgotten. Roxy and I were inseparable on stage, and it felt slightly weird for me to be playing guitar instead of singing, but it felt so comfortable.

The crowd roared and cheered as we went through our old set list, both of us remembering the songs in order without consultation. The magic that was our band hadn't been forgotten, but wouldn't be resurrected again. We never recorded another album, or did another show together, but we're still in contact now. All doing our own thing, but in contact.

Roxy and Alpha are married now, and their son Christian is doing incredibly well - already playing the piano. The music is in his blood.

The night ended with my band mates and I drinking together and enjoying each other's company.

I did see him that night. He came towards our booth, and the chatter amongst my old band suddenly silenced as they realised his presence. I froze completely, watching him. My stomach churned slightly, and I did want him still, but it was over. Ghost were still doing incredibly well as a band.

My name is Tyla Tobias, and my story ends with the last words that Papa ever said to me:

"I knew you wouldn't crash and burn, angel,"


	30. The Second Book

Hey everyone!

I've decided to create a sequel story to this one. It's the second work in The Angel Series. Feel free to read, kudo and comment x


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